


By Any Other Name

by KatieSkarlette



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dragons, F/M, Forbidden Love, Genetic Engineering, Non-Explicit Sex, Romance, Romeo and Juliet References, Secret Relationship, Tragedy, Undeath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieSkarlette/pseuds/KatieSkarlette
Summary: Rheastrasza’s efforts to purify the black dragonflight go further back than anyone could have imagined, inspired by a forbidden love that survived ten thousand years of war, corruption, secrecy and even death.  It all began with a curious youngster named Romathion–better known today as Nefarian…





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before there was Deathwing, there was Neltharion.  
> Before there was Sinestra, there was Sintharia.  
> And before there was Nefarian, there was Romathion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter:  Discussion of arranged marriage and pressure to reproduce.  Arguments with parents.  Mild sexual innuendo.]

> Two ~~households~~ **dragonflights** , both alike in dignity  
>  (In fair ~~Verona~~ **Azeroth** , where we lay our scene),  
>  From ancient ~~grudge~~ **friendship** break to new mutiny,  
>  Where civil blood makes civil ~~hands~~ **paws**  unclean.  
>  From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
>  A pair of star-crossed lovers ~~take~~ **lose**  their life;  
>  Whose misadventured piteous overthrows  
>  Do with their death bury ~~their~~ ~~parents’ strife~~ **one flight’s corruption**.  
>  The fearful passage of their death-marked love  
>  And the continuance of ~~their parents’ rage~~ **the Old Gods’ taint**  
>  Which, but ~~their children’s end~~ **these dragons’** **efforts** , nought could remove,  
>  Is now the ~~two hours’~~ ~~traffic of our stage~~ **eleven-chapter fanfic on our screen** ; 

_(Adapted from the introduction to_ Romeo and Juliet _, with apologies to William Shakespeare, who I’m sure never imagined some fangirl a few centuries after his death would be altering his words to write about two video game dragons falling in love.)_

* * *

Purple wildflowers dotted the mountain valley, swaying in a light breeze. The warm spring sun cast long shadows from the sparse trees as it sank toward the western horizon.  
  
A swarm of red and black dragon whelps burst out of a patch of heather, giggling and chasing each other in random directions.  
  
“Children, we’re leaving soon!”  A deep voice rumbled across the valley, seeming to come from the earth itself.  
  
One by one, the black whelps broke off from the crowd and headed toward the gaping entrance of a cavern on the northern edge of the valley.  
  
Two enormous dragons sat there.  One was an elegant female with crimson scales and horns adorned with golden baubles. The other, even larger dragon was the source of the booming voice.  His scales were the rich black color of fertile soil, speckled with countless gemstones and streaks of precious metals.  
  
The dark whelps gathered in front of him, all chattering at once about the fun they’d had that day.  Their red playmates soon joined them, some perching on their mother’s horns.  
  
The adults listened patiently, smiling at their jumbled tales.  
  
After a minute, the large male frowned, squinting into the tangle of whelps.  "Where’s Romathion?“  
  
No one spoke up with an answer.  
  
He snorted a wisp of smoke in irritation.  "You’d think the eldest would set a good example,” he grumbled.  
  
His companion put a paw on his shoulder.  "I’ll watch the rest while you look for him.“  
  
A dark purple whelp fluttered up by his head.  "I saw him and Rheastrasza over by the pond a little while ago, Father.”  
  
“Thank you, Onyxia.  I’ll start there,” he said with a nod.

 

* * *

  
Cattails rustled along the edge of the pond, and a dragonfly took off in alarm.  
  
“This is so neat!” came a young, male voice.  
  
“I know!” squealed an equally-young female.  
  
“I mean, they were just little squiggly things last time, and now they have legs!”  
  
“And by next time you visit they’ll have lost their tails!”  
  
“Wow…” he breathed in awe.  
  
“ _ **Romathion**_!”  A baritone roar made them flinch as a huge shadow fell over the pond.  
  
“Uh oh, your papa sounds mad.”  
  
The boy groaned.  
  
The ground shook as the huge black dragon landed by the pond, and two sheepish-looking whelps crawled out of the shallows to greet him. The male was black and the female red, but it was hard to tell when they were coated with slimy algae.

“Hi, Father,” Romathion said meekly.  "Is it time to go already?“

  
"I _know_ you heard my summons,” Neltharion said evenly.  "Why didn’t you come?“  
  
"I was going to, in a minute.”  The whelp tried to wipe bits of vegetation off his face and only succeeded in smearing it more. “But Father, this is so _amazing_! Did you know baby frogs don’t look like frogs?  They look like little wiggly fish or something, but then they grow legs, and lose their tails, and turn into something completely different! Isn’t life incredible?”  
  
Neltharion’s stern expression softened slightly as he listened to his son ramble.  "Yes, it is.  But it’s best to leave it to the red flight.  It’s their domain, just as the earth is ours.“  
  
"But Father, I really, really like this kind of stuff!  It’s so interesting!”  
  
The red whelp finally spoke up.  "He’s really smart about it, too, Earth Warder!  Last time he was here he helped me fix a turtle’s cracked shell!“  
  
Neltharion was unmoved.  "Romathion, as my eldest son and heir, you have to set a good example for the rest of the brood. That means obeying me and concentrating on the duties of the black dragonflight.  Understand?”  
  
The black whelp hung his head.  "Yes, Father.“  
  
"Now come along; it’s getting dark.”  The massive adult dragon spread his wings and flew toward where he had left Alexstrasza and the others.  
  
Romathion and Rheastrasza flapped their wings a few times to shake off the film of algae and followed him.  
  
“Sorry if I got you in trouble,” Rhea whispered.  
  
“It’s okay,” he mumbled.  "I wanted to stay.“  
  
She smiled.

 

* * *

 

As the years passed, Romathion grew more skilled at concealing his interest in matters normally reserved for the red dragonflight, but it never waned. Whenever his father would visit Alexstrasza he made sure to tag along.  Rheastrasza was always glad to see him, and delighted in showing off her latest projects.  Romathion had formed a small cave near their favorite pond for her to house her experiments.    
  
One chilly autumn day they were looking over her latest project: a squirrel with horns.  
  
"That is so awesome,” he said, peering in fascination at the caged creature.  
  
“Thank you for not asking why a squirrel would need horns,” Rhea said with a frown.  "Like everyone else does,“ she grumbled.  
  
"Why?  Why _not_? Horns make everything better,” he said with an easy laugh.  
  
She tried to squeeze past him to get further into the cave and out of the cold wind, but it was a tight fit.  
  
“I should expand this place for you,” he said, looking around at the narrow cave.  "We’re getting too big for it.“  
  
"Yeah, funny how that happens,” she said with a wink.  They were well into drakehood now, and within a few years would be considered adults.  
  
“I…”  Romathion hesitated, then continued while keeping his gaze on the dirt floor.  "I brought you something.“  
  
"Oh?  Let me see!”    
  
He often brought her an insect or other small critter he had found deep underground, but today when he opened his paw it held a brilliant ruby as large as one of his talons.  
  
“Ooh, it’s gorgeous!” she breathed in awe, eyes widening. “Where did you find it?”  
  
He grinned at her reaction.   “About half a mile below Stonetalon Peak.  It was so beautiful and red, it…reminded me of you.”  
  
She gave a shallow gasp and looked up into his eyes, suddenly realizing what he was saying.  "Romathion, it’s wonderful, but– We can’t–“  
  
"I know,” he said with a troubled look.  "I know we can’t. But I can’t help feeling…that way.  About you.“  
  
She took the ruby from his paw and studied it for a moment, turning it over to see it from every angle.  "I…  I feel that way, too, Romy.  I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”  
  
He shuffled his feet awkwardly and avoided eye contact.  "I don’t know, either.“  
  
"If only you were red.”  
  
“If only you were black.”  
  
They looked at each other for a second, then burst into nervous laughter.    
  
“Well, since we can’t change the color of our scales, I guess we’re stuck,” he said with a shrug.  
  
“It’s so stupid,” she said, frowning.  "Before the Titans changed us, none of this mattered.  We were all protodragons, and no one cared who you took as a mate.“  
  
"The Titans were apparently quite adamant that we avoid interbreeding. Or so my father says.”  
  
“My parents say the same thing,” she said with a sigh. “Apparently the Titans’ blessings can only be passed down along pure color lines.”  
  
“Blessings…hmm.”  His tone made it clear he considered the restrictions more of a curse.  
  
“We can still be friends, though,” she said, nuzzling her head against his.  
  
He returned the gesture.  "Always.“

  
  


* * *

 

Two decades passed before either of them broached the subject again.  They were both fully-grown now, capable of starting broods of their own–though neither had shown any interest in doing so.  
  
Rheastrasza had long since moved out of the tiny cavern near Alexstrasza’s lair and taken up residence in a larger cave system along the north-west coast of a land mortals would one day dub Feralas.  This meant that Romathion had far fewer excuses to visit her, but he still managed to drop by a couple times a year.  
  
On this particular visit he brought her a creature she had never seen before.  
  
"Ooh, what is it?” she asked as she circled the steel cage.  The beast inside was similar to the crocolisks she was familiar with, but had a row of wicked-looking spines down its back, a twisted horn on its head, and two large tusks jutting up from its lower jaw.  
  
“I haven’t named it yet,” he said casually.  
  
“You mean you discovered a new species?” she asked, nearly bouncing in excitement.  
  
“No, I mean, I…created it.”  He sounded almost afraid of her reaction.  
  
“You _what_?”  
  
“Well, not from scratch.  I took a crocolisk and just…made some improvements.”  
  
Rhea gasped.  "But you’re not one of the red dragonflight.“  
  
"I’m well aware,” he said with a bitter sneer.  
  
“You shouldn’t be able to manipulate life like that!”  Despite her shock, she didn’t seem angry, which set him slightly more at ease.  
  
He shrugged.  "Malygos has taught my father quite a bit of magic, and I’ve picked up a few tricks.  Father’s also taught me how to turn my opponent’s abilities against them in battle.  I’m sure he never dreamed I’d take his lessons and apply them to…this,“ he said, gesturing at the strange creature in the cage.  "But once I started learning spells, it all seemed to click into place.”  
  
Rhea’s astonished expression finally gave way to a grin.  "Oh, Romy, that’s amazing!“  She came over and bumped her nose against his in a fond gesture.  "Does anyone else know?”  
  
“No,” he said quickly.  "My father used to tolerate my interest in such matters as long as I kept up with the other tasks and lessons he set before me.  He has such high expectations for me, as his oldest son, and I try to live up to them, but…  Lately he’s seemed different.“  
  
"Different how?”  She gestured for him to sit beside her at the entrance to her lair, looking out over the ocean.  
  
“I can’t really explain it,” Romathion said with a troubled frown. He sat down, not quite close enough to brush against her.  "He’s just not himself.  Withdrawn, short-tempered… I asked him if something was bothering him, but he insisted he was fine and told me not to worry.“  
  
"But you _are_ worried.”  
  
“Yes,” he admitted.  
  
She put an arm around his shoulders and leaned against him.  For a moment he tensed as if to draw away, but then relaxed.  
  
“Hopefully it’s nothing serious,” she said.  
  
“Hopefully,” he said, nodding.  "He’s, um, also been getting impatient for me to find a mate and continue the bloodline.“  
  
"Ah.  Anyone you have your eye on?”  
  
He glanced at her with a sad smile.  "No one my parents would approve of.“  
  
"Romy…” she chided.  
  
“I’m sorry, Rhea.  I know it can’t happen.  That doesn’t stop me from wishing, though.”  
  
She was silent for a moment, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched low clouds drift over the endless sea.  "I still have the ruby you gave me,“ she said softly.  
  
"You do?”  
  
“Mmm hmm.”  
  
“I’m glad.”  
  
She turned her head and flicked her tongue across his cheek.  
  
“Rhea…” He intended it to sound scolding but it came out as more of a plea.  "Don’t make this any harder than it already is,“ he said, edging away from her.  "You know how I feel about you, and you know nothing can come of it.”  
  
“I can’t be your consort.  That doesn’t mean we can’t…be closer than we are.”  She ran her paws across his shoulders and briefly touched the tip of her snout to his.  
  
He swallowed, losing his train of thought when face-to-face with her lovely green eyes.  
  
“No one would ever know,” she said.  
  
“ _We_ would know.”  He turned away.  "It’s bad enough I’m going behind my father’s back with that,“ he said, gesturing at the modified crocolisk.  "I can’t…”  
  
Rhea made a disappointed noise but backed off.  "All right.  I’m sorry.  I just get lonely out here by myself, and…I do love you, you know.“  
  
"I know,” he said quietly.  "I…  I love you, too.“  With that, he spread his wings and flew away, leaving both Rhea and his first successful experiment behind.

 

* * *

  
  


It was only a month later when Romathion returned, arriving well after sunset in the middle of a raging storm.  Rhea was half-asleep deep in her lair, unable to rest well thanks to the thunder.  
  
At first she assumed she was dreaming when she heard his voice call out her name.  She sat up and rubbed her eyes, however, and it came again. 

"Rhea?  Are you home?  It’s me, Romathion.”  
  
“Romy?” she answered groggily.  
  
He followed the sound of her voice and found her sleeping chamber. She stood up in alarm at the sight of him, trembling and dripping rainwater on the floor.  
  
“Romathion!  What in the world…?”  
  
Still catching his breath from the long flight, he shook his head several times before speaking.  "I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but…I didn’t know where else to go.  My father, he…“  Romathion shivered violently.  
  
"What?  What happened?”  Rhea steadied him with one paw on his back and the other on his arm.  
  
“Something is seriously wrong with him.  I don’t know what, but…  He brought up the matter of a consort for me again, and when I told him I wasn’t ready to settle down yet he _exploded_. I’ve never seen him so angry.  He wasn’t making sense, talking about how I was disrespecting him, and ours is the strongest dragonflight in the world, and he won’t let his own flesh and blood get in the way of his plans–whatever those are, he didn’t say–and that I had to obey him or he would _make_ me.”  
  
Rhea inhaled sharply.  "That doesn’t sound like him at all.“  
  
"It isn’t,” he said.  "It was like someone else using his voice, or… I don’t know.“  He gave a shuddering sigh that bordered on a sob.  "It…frightened me,” he admitted.  
  
“I can certainly see why,” she said.  "Here, let’s get you dry before you catch a chill.“ She stepped back and carefully breathed hot air in broad circles around him, stopping short of actual flames but swiftly taking away the rainwater.  "There.  Now come and lie down; you look exhausted.  Did you fly straight through from Highmountain?”  
  
“Pretty much.”  He staggered over to the low area in the middle of the cavern where she had been dozing and flopped down on his stomach.  
  
She clicked her tongue in disapproval at such a reckless action, then stretched out beside him.  "Just rest, Romy.  You’re safe here.“  
  
"With you,” he murmured, mustering a faint smile.  
  
She said nothing, merely wrapping her limbs and one wing around him to share her body heat.  Soon his breathing grew slower and more even, and before long he was sound asleep with his head pressed against her neck.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As corruption subtly takes over his father, Romathion is driven into the arms of his oldest friend and confidant for support. It’s forbidden for members of different dragonflights to mate, of course, but the bond between him and Rheastrasza cannot be denied…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Arranged marriage and pressure to reproduce. Arguments with parents. Consensual, non-explicit hetero dragon sex.]

Romathion awoke long after sunrise, and even before his eyes were open a smile formed on his face as he remembered where he was.   Rheastrasza had rolled away from him during the night, but her tail was still curled around his.  
  
She stirred as soon as he sat up.  For a moment she looked disoriented to see him there, but a fond grin soon took over.  "Morning, Romy,“ she said, stretching.  "Sleep well?”  
  
“Very,” he said.  "Thank you.“  
  
After an awkward moment of silence, she headed for the lair’s exit.  "Come on, I’ll show you where to catch breakfast.”  
  
Neither spoke about the crisis that had brought him here, and neither mentioned what might happen next.  Content to live in the moment, they romped in the shallows, snapping up fish and crabs.    
  
He pounced into a tidal pool with a huge splash, but his paw landed on a patch of sea urchins.  He hopped around, yelping in pain and cursing.  "What the hell are those things?“  
  
"Sea urchins,” Rhea said, trying and failing to keep herself from laughing.  "Their spines can’t pierce your scales, but they’re not pleasant on the pads of your paws.“  
  
"Thanks for the warning,” he said snidely.  
  
“Oh, come here, you big baby,” she said, beckoning him over.  She stooped and put her paws over his injured one, murmuring a spell. Green magic curled around, and when it faded again a few seconds later the stinging was gone.  "Better?“ she asked.  
  
He nodded, then regarded her with a distant, fond smile.  "You always make me feel better.”  
  
She looked away shyly.  "Don’t start.“  
  
He reached out and put a paw on her cheek, gently making her look at him again.  "Rhea, I’ve decided what I need to do.”  
  
She swallowed before prompting, “What?”  
  
“I will go home, tell my father that I will fulfill my duty as his heir, find a mate he approves of, and sire children for the good of the dragonflight.”  
  
She nodded, looking slightly disappointed.  "Of course.  You have a duty as the Aspect’s eldest son.“  
  
"I do.  But before I start down that path…”  He leaned forward to rub his snout against hers, then flicked his tongue across her cheek.  "I want to know what I’ll be missing.“  
  
"That’s not going to make it any easier,” she said.  
  
“I know.  I don’t care.  I want you, Rheastrasza.  I know it can’t be forever, and I know it’s supposedly ‘wrong.’  None of that matters.  You are so dear to me.  Always have been. You understand me like no one else.  We’ve shared so much together through the years.  Let me share this first time with you.”  
  
“Romathion,” she sighed, and the yearning in her voice made him shiver.  "I want you, too.  I’ve never wanted anyone else.“  
  
"You’ve taught me so much about Life,” he said quietly, stroking her neck.  "Give me this final lesson about how life begins.“  
  
She trembled, nuzzling against him.  "I will,” she whispered.

 

* * *

  
Neither had any idea how much time was passing.  It didn’t matter.  All that mattered was each other, and finally giving in to instincts that had been urging them together for years.  With no experience to guide them, they treated it almost like one of their scientific experiments, testing to find out what would happen under different circumstances.  There was quite a bit of laughter in between the moans and sighs.  
  
It was well past sunset now, and the braziers lighting the inside of her lair were barely smoldering.  The two dragons lay together in a tangle of limbs, tails and wings, catching their breath after a particularly successful “experiment.”  
  
“We’re getting better at that,” he said smugly  
  
“Mmm hmm.”  Rhea snuggled against him with a dreamy sigh.  "How can something that feels so good be wrong?“ she asked rhetorically.  
  
"It’s not,” he said.  "It’s everyone else who’s wrong.“  He lazily rubbed her back as he rested his chin on top of her head. "You know,” he said sleepily, “in the dark like this I can’t even tell what color your scales are.”  
  
“Problem solved,” she said dryly.  "I’ll just become nocturnal.“  
  
They shared a half-hearted chuckle, then fell silent as the reality of their situation intruded.  She shivered and held onto him tightly as if willing him to never leave that spot.  "Don’t go,” she whispered. “Just…stay here with me forever.”  
  
“You know I can’t do that,” he said.  "I have a duty to my family, to the black dragonflight.“  
  
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she buried her head against his neck.  "I love you, Romathion,” she whispered.  
  
“I love you, too, Rhea,” he replied.  "I wish that was enough.“  
  
She held her breath for a moment, and then her shoulders shook under his paw as a sob broke free.  
  
"Oh, Rhea,” he sighed.  "Don’t cry.“  
  
This only made her tears come faster.  He simply held her snugly in his arms, trying to solidify even this painful memory in his mind to sustain him after their inevitable parting. 

 

* * *

 

Romathion returned to Highmountain the next day with a heavy heart, resigned to his fate.  He secluded himself in his own lair and tried to pretend nothing had changed in his life. This solitude only lasted two days before Neltharion summoned him again.

  
Romathion did his best not to act guilty or anxious as he padded down the sloping stone corridor into the heart of the Earth Warder’s lair.  He was acutely aware of the missing scale midway down his back.  No one could possibly know that it had come off while navigating different lovemaking positions with Rheastrasza, but _he_ knew, and it felt like a beacon broadcasting his secret.  
  
He found Neltharion seated on an island in the middle of an underground lake of magma, staring blankly into the distance.  He almost appeared to be listening to something, although all Romathion could hear was the hiss of molten rock and his own wingbeats as he crossed over to the island.  
  
He landed in front of his sire and bowed his head so low that his snout touched the ground.  "Father.”  
  
Neltharion said nothing at first, staring past him with the same distant expression.  
  
Romathion did not dare move.  
  
The Earth Warder twitched, as if finally noticing his presence. “My son,” he rumbled, looking pleased at Romathion’s contrite posture. “You’ve returned.  With a clearer head, I hope?”  
  
“Yes, Father,” Romathion said flatly.  He finally rose from his bow and nervously looked into his eyes for some sign of the rage that had overtaken him during their last meeting.  
  
Neltharion still seemed distracted, but at least he was calm.  "I have summoned a number of eligible females.  They should begin arriving tomorrow. Surely one or more of them will be an acceptable mate.“  
  
"Yes, Father,” Romathion said.  His mouth was dry as a desert and the words came out hoarsely.  
  
“Ours is the greatest of the dragonflights,” Neltharion said sternly. “If we ever hope to dominate the others, we must be stronger in numbers as well as power.”  
  
 _If we hope to…what?_ Romathion thought, forcing his face to betray none of his confusion. _Since when do we want to dominate the other flights?  Aren’t we all equal as the Titans’ chosen guardians?_  
  
“Dismissed.”  
  
Romathion hesitated, but his father had returned to gazing into the distance, as if listening to something only he could hear.  
  
At last, the younger dragon bowed and retreated.  He had never felt more disheartened.

 

* * *

  
  


Neltharion’s words came back to Romathion later that day, as he pondered his situation:  "Surely one _or more_ of them will be an acceptable mate.“  Of course.  The Earth Warder had a prime consort and two secondary ones, as well as a host of lesser mates.    
  
Just because Romathion had to take a mate from his own flight for breeding purposes didn’t mean that he couldn’t return to Rhea from time to time.  They would obviously have to keep their relationship a secret, but they didn’t need to be parted forever. He felt foolish for not thinking of it before.   
  
To avoid suspicion he stayed away from Feralas for nearly four months, until after his new consort had laid her first clutch of eggs.   
  
He had tried to love Stalactria as he did Rhea, but they had little in common.  He had chosen her over the others because at first she seemed intelligent–and she was, just not in ways that interested him.  She could ramble for hours about erosion and continental drift.  Fortunately she was usually content to spend her days flying around, monitoring landslides and sediment deposits like a good black dragon should.  Romathion accompanied her on a few of these patrols but was so bored he nearly fell asleep in mid-air.  
  
Mating with her wasn’t exactly a hardship, as she was physically attractive, and the act was pleasurable, but it paled in comparison to his memories of his time with Rhea.  Stalactria was predictable and unadventurous and never, ever, laughed at such moments. Perhaps she sensed Romathion’s lack of enthusiasm.  He almost hoped she would ask him why he wasn’t more engaged, but she never did, and he did not volunteer.  
  
When Stalactria told Romathion she was gravid, she was taken aback by his overjoyed reaction.  He had never shown that much emotion over anything to do with their relationship before. Yet it was not the prospect of fatherhood that excited him. It meant that his duty to the dragonflight was fulfilled–at least for now–and he could return to Rheastrasza with a (mostly) clear conscience.  
  
Romathion left for Feralas the day after Stalactria laid the eggs.  He promised to return before they hatched, giving him at least two weeks of freedom.   
  
As he flew west, his mind wandered, and he found himself wondering if it was even possible to produce offspring with a member of a different dragonflight.  The Titans had expressly forbidden cross-flight mating, of course, so there was no record of such a dragon being hatched.  That didn’t mean it had never happened, though. Such things were obviously kept secret as much as possible.  
  
He reached Rheastrasza’s lair just as the sun was disappearing into the ocean.  He landed at the entrance and called her name.  
  
Was she home?  Would she still want to see him?  Was she angry at him for being away so long?  Would she decide that if she couldn’t have him around all the time, she didn’t want him around at all? Had something happened to her in his absence?  What if she was dead?  
  
More and more dire scenarios flooded his mind in the few seconds it took for her to answer.  
  
"Romathion?” came from deep inside the cavern.  "Is that you?“  
  
"Yes!”  
  
He heard her approaching as quickly as she could, and broke into a grin when she bounded into his arms with a delighted squeal.    
  
“Romy!  You came back!”  
  
“Of course,” he said, holding her tightly.  
  
“I missed you so much!”  Tears flooded her eyes, and she buried her face against his neck.  
  
“I missed you, too.  More than you can know.”  
  
She pulled back, wiping her eyes with an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all weepy.”  
  
He swallowed back the lump of emotion in his own throat and shrugged. “It’s all right, my dear, dear Rhea.  I’m just so glad to see you, and…I was afraid you might have decided I wasn’t worth the trouble and heartache.”  
  
She snorted derisively.  "I love you, you big dolt.  Of course I want to see you every day, but since that’s not possible…  You’re here now, and that makes me very happy.“  
  
He nuzzled his snout against hers and smiled.  "Me, too.”  
  
“So come in, come in, tell me about what’s been going on.  How’s your father?  Did…did you find a mate among your own flight?”  
  
Romathion hung his head as they walked into her lair.  "My father is…strange.  I’m still not sure what’s happening. He’s definitely not himself.“  He paused.  "To placate him, I did choose one of the females he approved of as my mate.  Our first eggs will be hatching in two weeks.”  
  
Rhea gave an obviously forced smile.  "Congratulations!“  
  
He grimaced.  "Yes, well…my father will be happy.”  
  
She shook her head sadly.  "Romathion, I want _you_ to be happy.  I know I can’t be your consort.  I can’t give you pure black whelps.  There’s nothing we can do about that. But please, try to make the best of the situation. I think you’ll be a wonderful father, and maybe you can grow to love your new mate.“  
  
He sighed deeply as they reached her sleeping chamber.  "I’ve tried.  Titans know I’ve tried. I don’t…hate her.  But she’s not you.”  
  
“Oh, Romy…”  
  
“I love you, Rhea.  I always have, and I always will.  I won’t be able to stay with you forever, but whenever I can sneak away for awhile, I promise to come to you.”  
  
She embraced him snugly, at first content simply to be in his arms.  As they grew reacquainted with each other’s bodies, their touches grew more purposeful.  Soon they were making love as if they had never been apart.

 

* * *

 

Thus passed the next two years.  Stalactria laid a steady supply of eggs, satisfying Romathion’s obligation to his flight.  They settled into a relationship that was neither blissful nor unpleasant. Each had their own interests and routines.  Their paths crossed only to care for their brood, or add to it.  
  
Rhea also laid eggs occasionally, but none hatched.  This was disappointing but not unexpected.  
  
Romathion split his time between his two mates.  His duties required him to spend more time away from Rhea than he would have liked, and he lived in constant worry that his secret would be uncovered.  
  
Before long Rhea decided to find a lair closer to Highmountain, and settled into a cavern on the east coast. It was a discreet distance from the black dragonflight’s territory, but close enough to allow Romathion to visit much more frequently.  
  
Autumn turned the forests into a stunning tableau of orange, yellow and crimson. Romathion paid the vista little attention and picked up speed as he neared the coast.  He glided down to land at the mouth of the seaside cavern, grinning in anticipation of seeing his beloved again after nearly two months apart. Black dragonflight business had kept him away longer than he had planned.  "Rhea, are you there?  I’m home!“ he called out.  
  
"Romathion!”  Rheastrasza came rushing out to greet him, nearly tripping over her own paws in her haste.  "I was getting worried!“ She threw herself into his arms, and he squeezed her tightly, wrapping his wings and arms around her.  
  
"I know, I’m sorry, it all took longer than I thought.  I had to help build an entire peninsula.  But my father should be placated now until next summer, with any luck.”  He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Oh Titans, I’ve missed you, Rhea.”  
  
“And I you,” she said, flicking her tongue across his chin and then rubbing her snout against his.   
  
“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”  
  
“Well, funny you should mention that,” she said with a nervous laugh.   
  
“What?”  
  
“You know how we work so hard to design new and improved forms of life?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
“Without even meaning to, we made our most amazing creation yet.  Come see.” With an enigmatic smile, she led him toward their sleeping chamber, deeper inside the cave system.  "Be quiet, though, she should still be sleeping,“ she whispered.  
  
Unbearably curious, Romathion followed her.  
  
In a small nook at one end of the sleeping chamber was a tangle of leaves and grasses, matted together to form…a nest?  Rhea stood aside, grinning until her teeth gleamed in the torchlight, as he crept closer to investigate.  
  
A tiny whelpling lay curled up in the center of the nest, deep in slumber.  Her scales were a pearly white color, completely unlike any he had ever seen.  
  
Romathion stared with his mouth hanging open for nearly a minute before he came to his senses and looked to Rhea with an astonished expression. He pointed to the whelpling, then to himself in an unspoken question.  
  
His mate nodded, beaming happily.  She pointed to herself with one paw, to him with the other, then at the whelpling with both.  The message was clear.  This was their child.  
  
Romathion leaned down to get a better look at her, hardly daring to breathe lest he wake her. She appeared perfectly normal in every respect except the pure white color of her scales.  He shook his head in wonder.  
  
Rhea nudged him into following her out of the room where they could hold a whispered conversation without waking their daughter.  
  
"When–?  How–?   _White_?” he sputtered.  
  
“Romy, I think you know _how_ ,” she teased.  
  
“Well, yes, but…none ever hatched before!”  
  
“It seems fertility isn’t the greatest when the parents are from different flights.”  
  
“Is that why she’s white?”  
  
“Your guess is as good as mine.  As far as I know, no one’s had a child across color lines since the Titans left us.”  
  
“Is she…normal, otherwise?”  
  
“She’s healthy, and so far seems quite intelligent for her age–which is eleven days, by the way.”  
  
He shook his head in amazement.  "I had no idea.  I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.“  
  
"I know,” she said, nuzzling her head against his neck.  "It’s all right.“  She drew away and glanced back into the sleeping chamber. "She doesn’t have the Titan-given powers of the red _or_ black flights, as near as I can tell.  She can breathe fire, but no other magic.”  
  
“As we suspected, their blessings can’t be passed down unless both parents are from the same flight.  I suppose it’s a safeguard in case the different powers interact in unexpected ways…”  He rubbed his chin.  "Listen to us, talking like she’s just another experiment! This is our _daughter_!“  
  
"I know,” she said giddily. “Isn’t it amazing?  We have a daughter! I’m so happy I’m just beside myself.  I haven’t stopped smiling since she hatched.”  
  
“What’s her name?”  
  
Rhea looked slightly embarrassed.  "She asked what our names were, and decided she wanted to combine them and be called Romatria.“  
  
"Ro- _mat_ -rhea, huh?  Well, a unique name for a one-of-a-kind whelp seems about right.”  
  
Either it was simply time for the whelpling to wake from her nap, or she heard her name being spoken, because a small voice came from the nest. “Mommy?”  
  
Romathion jumped at the sound, and Rhea giggled. “Coming, my dearest,” she called, hurrying back into the sleeping chamber.  "Did you have a good nap?“  
  
The tiny whelp rubbed her eyes and stretched, momentarily spreading her wings as she did so. "Yeah.  What’s for supper?”  
  
“You little bottomless pit,” Rhea said fondly, tapping the whelp’s round belly with one claw.  
  
“Hey, I have a _lot_ of growing to do, you know!” she said with a pout.  "Besides, I–EEK!“  She suddenly caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar, dark shape behind her mother and darted back into the nest.  
  
"Oh dear, it’s all right; don’t be scared,” Rhea cooed.  "This is your daddy.  Remember, I told you he would be home soon. Come out and meet him.“  
  
Romatria peeked out from under the pile of leaves.  
  
"Hello there,” he said, crouching until he was at eye level with her. “I’m your daddy.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you hatched, but I’m so glad to meet you!”  He tried to speak quietly to avoid frightening her further.  
  
“Daddy?”  She cautiously poked her head out. “Romathion?”  
  
“That’s me,” he said with a reassuring smile.  
  
“You’re not white, either,” she said with a tinge of disappointment.  
  
“No, honey, I told you, you’re the only white dragon I’ve ever seen. You’re very special,” Rhea said.  
  
“I guess,” she said, crawling out of the tangle of greenery at last.  
  
“It doesn’t matter what color your scales are,” Romathion said, holding out a paw.  "You’re our daughter, and we love you every much.“  
  
The whelp hopped up onto his paw, and he held her under his chin in a protective snuggle.  Rhea put her arms around them both, and they stood in an embrace for a pleasant minute or two, until a small, muffled voice said, "You never answered my question about what’s for supper.”  
  
Her parents both laughed.  
  
“You two get acquainted while I go hunting,” Rhea said with a wink on her way out of the chamber.  
  
“Okay.”  Romatria rolled over on her back, sprawled out in the palm of her father’s paw.  "You’re nice and warm.“  
  
"Um…thank you.”  He sat down and stared in wonder at the small creature who bizarrely reminded him of both himself and his mate, despite her strange coloration.  
  
“Mommy says you were away moving rocks.”  
  
“Among other things,” he said.  
  
“She says you black dragons are really good at that.”  
  
“It’s kind of our specialty, yes.”  
  
“And red dragons are good at growing things and healing.”  
  
“That they are.”  
  
“So…”  She sat up and gave a troubled frown.  "What are white dragons good at?“  
  
"We’ll find out, won’t we?”  
  
She didn’t look satisfied with that answer.  "What if I’m not good at anything?  I don’t have any magic.“  
  
"Well, what do you like to do?”  
  
“I like flying in loop-the-loops.”  
  
“That is fun.”  
  
“And rolling around.  Watch!”  She folded in her wings and tail and began rolling like a little white barrel.   
  
Romathion quickly put his other paw up to catch her as she tumbled right off his palm.  "Very nice.“  He cupped her in both paws so she couldn’t go any further.  
  
"It’s fun, but it’s not, like…useful or anything,” she said, looking perturbed.  
  
He lifted her up to nuzzle her against his cheek.  "You’ll have plenty of time to figure out what you can do, my dear.  Right now, just enjoy being what you are.“  
  
"A weird-colored whelp?”  
  
He chuckled.  "I was going to say, 'my beautiful daughter,’ but…that too, I suppose.“

  
Romatria giggled and licked his cheek.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Notes: The origins of white dragons like the so-called “Albino Drake” mount in WoW are unknown. In the mount journal the description is “Even the Draconic Native Association tests proved inconclusive in determining if the albino drake is related to a known dragonflight.” Cute “D.N.A.” joke aside, this leaves a lot of room for interpretation. This fic is based on my headcanon that the reason the white dragons cannot be positively identified as belonging to a known flight is because they are the rare outcome of mating between dragons of two different flights.]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romathion’s secret double life continues, but trouble is brewing that will forever change Azeroth and its dragonflights…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Dragons eating bears. Dragon-on-dragon violence in a battle setting. Minor, unnamed character deaths. Old Gods = themes of corruption/mental illness/brainwashing/mind control.]

As it turned out, Romatria had no one to compare herself to, as none of Rhea’s other eggs ever hatched.  Years passed, and she developed some rudimentary healing magic, but otherwise remained powerless.  What she lacked in the Titans’ blessings, however, she made up for in wits.  She inherited a sharp, analytical mind from both her parents, and even helped as best she could with their experiments.  Having her around made it doubly hard for Romathion to tear himself away from Rhea’s lair, but he had to keep up appearances.

He had just returned from a five-week absence, and to celebrate he and Rheastrasza tracked and killed a few bears to bring home as a feast.  Presently they were lounging, side-by-side, just outside the entrance to her lair.  The bones of their lunch were strewn on the beach nearby. Romatria had stuffed herself and was now sound asleep just inside the cavern.  
  
“Your flame breath is definitely hotter than mine,” Rhea said, picking at her teeth. “The bears you killed were really crispy.”  
  
“Sorry,” he said sleepily, leaning his head on her shoulder.  
  
“It’s quite all right.”  She stroked his forehead and licked his cheek.  
  
“Next time I’ll–”   
  
**_Romathion_**!  
  
He sat up with a gasp as a deep voice slammed into his head like a physical object.  
  
“Romy!  What’s the matter?”  
  
 _ **Romathion, return home at once**_ , Neltharion boomed.   ** _All dragonkind is gathering.  Our world is in danger and only we can save it._**  
  
He flinched at the volume of his father’s voice.   _Yes, Father_ , he replied into the earth.   _I’m on my way._  
  
Rhea stared at him in wide-eyed concern.  "What’s happening?“ As a red dragon, she could not have heard the messages carried by the earth.  
  
Romathion covered his eyes briefly before turning to face her. "My father just summoned me back to Highmountain.”  
  
“Oh dear.  Does he know where you are?”  
  
“He can sense where all his children are, but he would have no way of knowing about you.  Besides, he says there’s some kind of threat to the entire world.  Maybe that’s why he’s been so out of sorts; he sensed something dangerous coming.”  
  
“Perhaps.  I wonder what’s happening.  I hope–”  She stopped herself and held up a paw for silence, listening intently to something he couldn’t hear. “Well.  It seems you’re not the only one. The Life Binder just summoned me, as well.  Whatever is going on, it apparently involves more than just your flight.”   
  
“Hmm.”  He frowned in concern.  "I guess we don’t have much choice.“  
  
"No.” She looked over her shoulder at the large whelp snoring in the shadows.  "We shouldn’t leave Romatria, though…“  
  
Romathion considered for a moment.  "She’s almost five. She’ll be fine.”  
  
Rhea trembled slightly, and her mate nuzzled his snout against her cheek.    
  
“I know what you’re thinking, but she’s not completely defenseless. She can breathe fire, and her claws and teeth are sharp enough. She was even able to kill a yearling doe without my help last time we were hunting.”  
  
Rhea inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly. “You’re right.  Our little girl is growing up. She’ll be all right.”  She stood and went to wake her daughter and explain the situation.

 

* * *

 

The next few days were a blur.  Romathion and Rheastrasza flew to Highmountain and from there joined the Aspects and the rest of the world’s dragons in contributing their essence to Neltharion’s new weapon:  a strange golden disc he called the Dragon Soul. With the combined might of all dragons condensed in one talisman, they were sure to defeat the demonic legions that poured from Zin'Azshari.  
  
At least, that was the plan.  
  
Green felfire reflected from Romathion’s scales as he hovered at the bank of the Well of Eternity, numb with horror.  Was that his father attacking the other Aspects?  Was that his father’s body breaking at the seams, oozing fiery magma?  Was that his father turning the Dragon Soul against his own kind?  
  
Romathion stared, trying and utterly failing to make sense of it. What?  Why?  How?  
  
He watched as his siblings joined Neltharion in attacking members of the other dragonflights.  Onyxia was grappling with a blue dragon, snarling and clawing like a rabid beast.  Sabellian joined her, tearing out the blue’s throat with a savage snap of his jaws. The blue dragon plummeted to the ground amid a rain of his own blood.  
  
Myzerian dropped out of the clouds and took a nearby red dragon unawares, ripping gouges all over his body until he, too, fell from the sky.  
  
Red.  Rhea.  Where was Rhea?   
  
Romathion’s gaze darted around frantically, trying to pick her out amid the battle. How long had it been since he saw her?  Time seemed to have lost all meaning.  
  
 _Stubborn wyrm, why aren’t you joining your brothers and sisters?_  
  
He swallowed back a cry of alarm as a chorus of strange voices invaded his mind.  He had heard similar whispers for months, barely audible at the edge of his consciousness.  He had dismissed them as the product of stress or a problem with his ears.  Now they were loud, clear, and impossible to ignore.  
  
 _Destroy._  
  
 _Your flight will rule the others.  Rule the world!_  
  
 _Hate hate hate hate, feel your anger grow!_  
  
 _You cannot resist._  
  
 _You deserve to reign supreme!_  
  
 _Your dragonflight is the strongest!  The greatest!_  
  
 _The others were about to betray you!  They cannot be trusted!_  
  
“What?  No!” he said aloud, clutching the sides of his head.  
  
 _Attack the others. They are dangerous.  They are traitors. Only your flight is worthy._  
  
Was that true?  Were the others betraying the black flight? Come to think of it, in the chaos of battle, he wasn’t sure who had attacked first.  Had the blue, green, bronze and red flights turned on them?  
  
The red flight, surely not.  And the blues would never…  
  
Romathion reeled dizzily as surges of aggression, anger, fear, doubt and bloodlust washed over him.  
  
Kill.  He had to kill something.   
  
A green dragon flew by, rushing in a blind panic to escape from Razormaw, one of Romathion’s half-brothers.  
  
Rage filled every pore of his body as Romathion dived at the green dragon.   
  
_Yes, pain, blood, kill, destroy!_ the voices encouraged.  
  
It was almost as if Romathion was outside his own body, watching himself attack the green with a ferocity he rarely even showed when hunting, much less against another member of his species.  Razormaw caught up, and together they annihilated the green wyrm, shredding her wings, gouging out her eyes, ripping open her belly.  
  
 _Yes yes yes good kill kill rip flay attack kill destroy_ , the voices chattered.  
  
A giddy euphoria swept over Romathion.  Yes, this was good.  
  
He lost himself in the berserk fit, lashing out at anyone who didn’t have black scales.  
  
 _Don’t question it. Don’t think.  Just kill.  Do our bidding and your flight will rule the world!_  
  
How long he fought and how many dragons he killed, he had no inkling.  
  
The next thing he knew, the world exploded.  
  
Or so it seemed.  A blast of magic stronger than any he’d ever encountered erupted from the Well of Eternity, and the world went dark.

 

* * *

  
Rheastrasza frantically searched the jagged coastline, passing over countless bodies from each of the dragonflights, as well as night elves and demons.  She had been flying back and forth across the battlefield for hours, but there was no sign of Romathion.  Every corpse she did recognize added to the weight of grief on her chest, but she flew on.  
  
She didn’t know why Neltharion had betrayed the other flights.  She just knew Romathion had nothing to do with it. She had to find him.  The world no longer made sense, but if he was all right, then–  
  
“Rhea!”  
  
She dimly recognized the voice as belonging to Lirastrasza, but she did not slow down.  
  
“Rheastrasza!”  
  
She kept flying, straining her weary eyes at the ground below.  
  
Lira caught up with her and grabbed her arm.  "Rhea, you have to come with me and the others.  We’re regrouping at Hyjal. The Life Binder is alive and Neltharion is gone.  Are you listening to me? Rhea?“  
  
Rhea turned to look at Lira but her gaze was unfocused and she said nothing.  
  
"Rhea, please.  Snap out of it.  We’ve all lost dragons we cared about.”  Lira’s voice cracked.  "But we have to rally together with those who are left.  Please, you’re not doing anyone any good out here. Come back with me.“  
  
Rhea followed Lira without a word, heart pounding so loudly she was afraid the other could hear it.

 

* * *

 

A black dragon lay sprawled on the beach of a small island that had been part of the night elf capital just the day before.  Now turbulent seas surrounded the chunk of land, glowing and swirling with unbound magic.

The dragon stirred as the sun rose higher in the sky. Blood covered much of his body, but little was his own. Still, dirt and sand stuck to his hide, and he pawed at his face to clear his vision before he was able to open his eyes.  
  
What had happened?  Where was he?  
  
It slowly came seeping back.  The battle.  The voices.  
  
Romathion sat up with a snort of alarm.  His father. His brothers and sisters.  Rhea.  The other Aspects.  
  
Before he properly had his wits about him, the sky darkened as a purplish-black dragon swooped down to land nearby.  "Brother!”  He immediately recognized Onyxia’s voice.  "Are you all right?“  
  
"I…think so,” Romathion croaked, finding his throat too dry to speak properly.  
  
Onyxia nuzzled her snout against his.  "I’m so glad I found you.“  
  
Frothy sea was the only thing around, although Romathion had a hard time wrapping his mind around this fact.  There was no ocean near Zin'Azshari…was there? Nothing felt right.  Even his name sounded wrong.  
  
He put a shaking paw on his sister’s shoulder to steady himself.  "What’s going on? What happened?”  
  
“The Dragon Soul is lost, but the portal the demons were using to invade has been destroyed.”  
  
“The earth…”  He closed his eyes and held onto his forehead as he sensed the elements beneath his paws churning in chaotic rage.  
  
“Is no longer our concern,” Onyxia said with a dismissive snort.  
  
He blinked, questioning his hearing.  "What?“  
  
"We have a greater mission now:  survival.  The other flights are our enemies.  We must stop at nothing to establish our dominance.”  
  
He opened his mouth to express confusion and doubt, but the voices in his head rose from vague murmurs to a deafening chorus.  
  
 _Yes, trust no one.  They all want to destroy you.  Listen to us and you will rule Azeroth.  No more moving rocks around like a fool.  You deserve greater things than being the Titans’ servants. Annihilate your enemies and seize your destiny! Stop at nothing!  There is no action too extreme, no plan too nefarious, no sacrifice too great!_  
  
“Yes,” he said as much to himself as to his sister. “We are the greatest flight.”  
  
Onyxia looked pleased.  "We are.  And we will triumph. Now, do you think you can fly?  Father will want to see you. He’s badly injured but servants are working to repair his armor as we speak.“    
  
The voices receded somewhat, but their words still echoed deep in his mind.   _No action too extreme.  No plan too nefarious._  
  
"Yes,” he said with more confidence than he felt.  "Let’s go.“ He stretched out his wings and shook sand off them.  Soon he was following his sister out into the suddenly unfamiliar world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten thousand years after the Sundering shattered the ties between the red and black dragonflights along with the landmasses of Azeroth, an unexpected reunion changes everything once again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Angst. Minor character death “offscreen.” Innuendo and implied hetero sex.]
> 
> Notes: This fic follows my own headcanons for the way the Titans created modern dragons, not the novella Dawn of the Aspects or other, more recent lore. I like to think the Titans were more hands-on with their projects, even if it was just via avatars. It’s a minor thing as far as this fic is concerned, but just a heads-up.  
> In the original quests back in vanilla WoW, Kalaran told the player that he wanted revenge on the Dark Iron dwarves in the Searing Gorge because they had killed his father. At the time he’s pretending to be human, and is only revealed to be a black dragon after you help him. The story about his father is assumed to be a complete fabrication, and certainly the part about asking Stormwind for help was, but I liked the idea of it containing a kernel of truth. Thus I headcanon that Kalaran’s father was one of Nefarian’s lieutenants who actually was slain by Dark Irons.

“Lord Nefarian, the anti-draconic wards on the lower level have been triggered,” reported a dragonspawn guard.  
  
The ruler of Blackrock Mountain was stretched out on a broken walkway in a vaguely feline pose, enjoying the heat from the subterranean magma lake below.  At the interruption, he turned toward the guard and assumed a somewhat more dignified posture.  "Is the containment field holding?“  
  
"Yes, my lord.”  
  
“Excellent. I’ll go see what we caught,” he said with a malicious grin. He flew down to land beside the guard, then shifted into his human form to better navigate the passageways through the mountain.

  
  
Two tall drakonid warriors stood watch on either side of a doorway blocked by a shimmering green field of energy. They saluted with their polearms as Nefarian approached.  
  
He paid them little mind, dismissing the energy with a wave of his hand. With the shield down, he had a clear view of the chamber beyond. What appeared to be a goblin with curly red pigtails was lying flat on her back on the stone floor, held down by glowing tendrils of shadow magic.  The wards on this entrance to the mountain were specially enchanted to react only to dragons, however, so she was clearly not what she seemed.  
  
Nefarian strolled into the room with an unhurried pace, his arms folded behind his back.  "Well, well, well.  I wasn’t expecting company.“  He sniffed the air.  "A red?”  
  
The goblin strained against the shadowy bonds, but they did not yield even an inch, and magic kept her from shifting into her true form.  "Let me go!“  
  
Nefarian stopped by her feet and looked down at her with faint amusement.  "You’re in no position to make demands.  Who are you and what are you doing in _my_ mountain?”  
  
The goblin sneered up at him with disdain and only the tiniest hint of fear.  "I was looking for some red whelps who disappeared recently.  They were stolen from the Vermilion Redoubt, and the thieves’ trail led here.“  
  
"Hmm.  It seems I need some better thieves,” he mused, rubbing his bearded chin.  
  
“What have you done with those whelps?” she asked accusingly.

“Nothing, yet,” he said.  "I still need to collect specimens from the other flights before my true work can begin.“  He paused, enjoying the look of horror on her face.  "I’m primarily interested in the youngest dragons I can find, but I’m sure I’ll find some use for an adult female.”  
  
“You monster!” she snarled. “What kind of sick, twisted things are you doing here?  How dare you harm innocent whelps?”  
  
Nefarian paced in slow circles around her.  "None stay innocent long in this miserable world of ours.  If a few more have to be sacrificed along the way, so be it.“  
  
"How dare you?”  
  
He stopped pacing and looked over his shoulder at her.  "How dare I?  It’s quite easy, really. I just listen to the voices in my head.  You know, the Old Gods?  Hearing ten thousand years of their ramblings tends to give one an _interesting_ perspective.“  There was an icy bitterness to his tone.  "Of course, if they had their way, I’d already have torn you into a thousand pieces and painted the walls with your blood. But everything in moderation.”  He gave a humorless chuckle.  
  
“You’re mad,” she said, eyes growing wide.  
  
“Obviously. You would be, too, with these whispers in your head.”  He shrugged.  "Now, much as I’d enjoy continuing our little chat about my mental state, I’m a busy dragon.  I’ll see that a nice, cozy cell is prepared for you.“  He backed away to give himself room to shift back into his normal body.  The corridor behind him was wide enough to accommodate his size, and it would be easier to replace the wards in his true form.  
  
He heard the intruder gasp as he finished shapeshifting, and turned to her in confusion.  Surely she had seen other black dragons before, and she had clearly been aware of his true species from the beginning.  
  
The color had drained from her green face, and her mouth was open, quivering with unformed words.  
  
"What?” he snapped.  
  
“R-  Ro-  Romathion?”  
  
He froze.  No one had spoken his original name in millenia.  "How…?“ he breathed, frowning deeply.  
  
"Romathion,” she said again.  "It can’t be!  You died!  Or I thought you had.  I never knew for certain, but…  Oh Titans, this can’t be happening.“  
  
A sinking feeling congealed in Nefarian’s chest as he considered who she might be.  No.  Impossible. What were the odds?  "Who…  Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.  "How do you know that name?“  
  
"Romy…”  
  
The way she said it confirmed his suspicion even before she said her name.  
  
“Romy, it’s me.  Rhea.”  
  
He stared at her in stunned silence for several long seconds, unable to speak.   
  
“I thought you were dead,” she said, voice wavering.  "When you disappeared after the Sundering, I…  I thought…“  
  
He studied the floor between them.  "Romathion _is_ dead, just as Neltharion and Sintharia are.  They are Deathwing and Sinestra now, and I…am Nefarian.”  
  
She shook her head as best as the shadowy restraints would allow.  "You’re still _you_ , Romy.“  
  
He met her eyes again with an expression halfway between anger and pain. "No.  I’m not the same dragon I was before…  Before the voices.  Before my flight betrayed the others.  Before my father…became what he is.”  
  
“But–”  
  
“Don’t you see?” he interrupted, snorting smoke.  "I stayed away to protect you! Bad enough we broke taboos by being together in the first place. Then all of a sudden our flights were at _war_ , and there were voices telling me to kill every other color of dragon that I saw!  I couldn’t come back.  I couldn’t put you through that.“  
  
"So instead you put me through believing you were dead?”  Her voice rose in angry disbelief.  
  
“Yes. Better widowed than dead yourself.  Someone had to be there for Romatria, and it sure as hell couldn’t be me, after all that had happened.”  He studied her expression carefully, looking for some hint about how their daughter had fared.  "Is…  Is she…?“  
  
"I haven’t seen her since shortly after you, um, ‘died.’  She was old enough to understand how the rest of dragonkind would see her as a pariah, and she decided she didn’t want to be a burden.  She learned to take on the form of a night elf and disappeared into their society.”  
  
He gave a troubled frown.  "So she was able to shapeshift, then.“  
  
"That, and some rudimentary healing magic.  She remained powerless otherwise.”  
  
Nefarian swallowed and nodded slowly.  "I’d always wondered.“  He suddenly realized she was still bound to the floor by magic and murmured the spell to release her.   
  
The shadowy tendrils faded away, and she sat up stiffly, rubbing her wrists.  "Thanks.”  
  
“Sorry.  For everything.  I…I never meant to hurt you.”  
  
Rhea shook her head sadly.  "Oh, Romathion.“  She shimmered and shifted into her true body, then crept closer to him.  "I missed you.”  
  
He was transfixed by the sight of her, just as beautiful as his memories had painted her.  
  
She simply stood before him for a minute, shaking her head in disbelief. Anger, sorrow, pity and fondness crossed her face, and tears filled her emerald eyes.  
  
Nefarian stared back, holding his breath without realizing it.  
  
“Romy, I don’t know what the last ten thousand years have been like for you. I can’t imagine what the Old Gods have done to you.  If everything I’ve heard about you…about _Nefarian_ …is true, then you’re right:  you’re not the same dragon I fell in love with.  My Romathion would never hurt innocent whelps.”  
  
“I’m not doing that out of sadism,” he said flatly.  "I’m trying to create a new dragonflight:  one with the strengths and abilities of all the others, without the restrictions and the divisions the Titans imposed on us.“  He swallowed.  "It’s a dream I’ve had since even before the Sundering.”  
  
“All those experiments…” she said breathlessly.  "I _helped_ you with those!“  
  
He nodded solemnly.  "It’s not an inherently evil idea, you know. Making the perfect dragon, with the diverse abilities of the ancient proto-dragons…”  
  
“But at what cost?  What are you doing with the whelps you’ve kidnapped?”  She looked afraid of the answer.  
  
Nefarian met her gaze with a hard expression.  "Whatever I have to, and no more.“  
  
She did not press him, but was clearly disturbed by the implication.  
  
He sighed.  "I’ve also been searching for ways to purge the corruption from my own flight,” he muttered.  
  
“What?  Is that possible?”  
  
“If it is, I haven’t figured out how in all these centuries.  And it’s not easy to ponder the problem when I have a chorus of voices in my head who are dead-set on my failure.  They don’t seem to mind the plans for a perfect, conglomerate dragonflight, so I’ve been concentrating on that, hoping some of the progress might apply to both.”  
  
Rhea considered this.  She seemed slightly less outraged than she had a moment ago.  
  
“I have a mate from my own flight again,” he said quietly.  "After the Sundering, I was alone for a very long time–much to my father’s dismay.  Eventually I did find someone.  Our children…“  He shifted his weight.  "I see them struggling. I see glimpses of what their personalities would have been like without the voices.  I watch them start their lives, doomed from the beginning to be subservient to forces beyond their control. They don’t deserve…”  His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat.  "If anything I do can save them, then damn the cost,“ he growled.  
  
"Romy…”  Rhea’s voice ached with sympathy, and she shuffled forward to nuzzle her head against his.  "You _are_ still the same dragon you once were.“  
  
He exhaled a puff of smoke with a skeptical snort but did not lean away from her.  She put her arms around him, and they stood in silence for awhile, tense at first but soon relaxing into each other with a bizarre sense of familiarity.  
  
"Go,” he said at last, even as he stroked the back of her head.  "Leave Blackrock and never breathe a word of this to anyone.  The Romathion you knew is gone. Nefarian can only hurt you.“  
  
She drew back slightly and looked into his eyes with a sad smile.  "The Romathion I knew is still here, somewhere.  I will keep your secrets.  And…I even hope you succeed, for the sake of your children.”  
  
“Thanks.” He managed something close to a smile before stepping out of her arms.  "Now go.  Leave the way you came in.  I’ll wait to reset the wards until you’re gone.  You’re lucky you triggered one of the non-lethal traps.  I can’t guarantee your safety if you return, though.“  
  
"Romathion–”  
  
“Nefarian,” he corrected firmly.  "For your own sake, remember that.“  
  
She looked as if she wanted to embrace him again, but instead she turned and fled down the corridor.  
  
He watched her go, trying to ignore the lump of emotion squeezing his throat.

 

* * *

 

Months passed. Nefarian did his best to pretend Rheastrasza’s visit hadn’t happened at all, but his subconscious betrayed him by bringing her into his dreams nearly every night.  Over and over he awoke in a panic, dreaming that he was attacking Rhea as he had so many members of the other dragonflights though the centuries.  
  
On one such occasion he bolted awake with a strangled cry.  Upon realizing that it had been another nightmare, he swore in several different languages, then put a paw to his chest to calm his breathing.  
  
Tonight he had chosen to remain in his true body, curled up in a deep cave where Blackrock’s neverending supply of magma kept him comfortably warm.  Some nights he slept in human form in an ornately-decorated chamber near the peak of the mountain instead.   
  
Further sleep was out of the question for tonight, in either body.  Nefarian rubbed his eyes and shivered despite the natural heat of the rock chamber.    
  
In his dream he had been back at the Well of Eternity on the day of the Sundering, fighting with unrestrained ferocity against the other dragonflights.  One enemy dragon had come out of nowhere, swooping down out of the clouds.  He reacted quickly, sinking his claws into the attacker, raking deep gouges in her body.  The air was filled with blood, broken scales, and pained roaring.  The other dragon went limp and began to plummet toward the ground.  It was only then, as she dropped away, that he recognized her.  The look of betrayal in Rhea’s dying eyes cut through him like the keenest blade.  He screamed her name, and that was when he woke up.  
  
Nefarian shook his head in a vain attempt to banish the mental picture. No, sleep was not happening again tonight.  It was impossible to tell time in the subterranean chamber, but he sensed it was well before the time he would have normally arisen.  Still…  
  
He stifled a sigh and left the cavern.  His true body was too large to move through the ancient dwarven corridors of Blackrock, so he shifted into his human form and wandered aimlessly.  Orcs and dragonspawn guards all snapped to attention and saluted as he passed, but he ignored them.  
  
His feet carried him to the laboratories out of habit, and he stopped in the doorway, frowning at the array of jars, beakers, burners, tubes, and wires.  
  
His work on the chromatic dragons had stagnated.  Rhea’s words echoed in his mind, vying with the Old Gods for his attention:  "What are you doing with the whelps you’ve kidnapped?”  The horror and disappointment in her tone haunted him.  
  
He wasn’t doing anything that the Titans before him hadn’t done.  His father had told him tales of Khaz'goroth and the others, how they had tested, altered and refined proto-dragons into the distinct flights. Certainly the earliest of those dragons had not volunteered to be experimented on, but their sacrifice was necessary for the greater good.  
  
 _There is no greater good,_ the Old Gods scoffed.   _Only chaos._  
  
“You’re probably right,” he said aloud.  "But isn’t one definition of insanity to repeat the same actions, expecting a different result? You’ve driven me insane, so you shouldn’t complain if I act the part.“  
  
The voices in his head continued to chatter about destruction and futility, but he tuned them out.  Instead he sat down at the desk in the corner and opened the logbook detailing his most recent experiments.  
  
He _would_ succeed eventually.  Someday the perfect dragon would fly out of his laboratory, and everyone would recognize him as the visionary who saved their species from the divided, corrupted quagmire the Titans’ plans had become.  He would be remembered as Nefarian the Great.  
  
 _Romathion_ , Rhea’s voice whispered from his memory.  
  
 _Nefarian_ , he insisted.  
  
 _You’re still you, Romy…_  
  
He flopped forward and put his head down on top of the logbook with a weary sigh.

 

* * *

 

Dragonspawn servants cringed and groveled in front of the armored figure on the throne of Blackrock.  The volcano above was more active than usual, spitting out fiery ash that swirled just beyond the balcony like a dark blizzard.  
  
Nefarian sat on the crumbling stone chair with rod-straight posture, tightly gripping the arm rests as he glared down at his minions.  "You useless, incompetent cretins!  I give you one simple task, and you botch it even worse than I would have thought possible.”  
  
“A thousand apologies, Master,” Drakkisath said, bowing so low his snout touched the floor.  "The Dark Irons responded with greater numbers than anticipated, and–“  
  
"I don’t remember asking for excuses,” Nefarian growled.  "Those damned dwarves are blockading the northern entrance to Blackrock.  Clear them out!“  
  
"Kalaran–”  
  
“–is injured, and his father is dead, no thanks to you pack of bumbling idiots!” Nefarian finished for him, trembling with rage.  "Black dragon blood has been spilled, and I will _not_ let such an affront go unpunished.  Gather every orc, troll, ogre, dragonspawn and worg in this mountain and annihilate those dwarves! And don’t come back until it’s done!“  
  
The dragonspawn remained frozen in place, too terrified to move.  
  
"Go!” he bellowed.  
  
His minions took off in a sudden frenzy, pushing and shoving to exit the balcony as fast as possible.  
  
Nefarian slumped back with an exasperated groan.  
  
Onyxia happened to be visiting, and had been watching from the doorway that led toward the laboratories.  Now she stepped forward, her magenta-and-crimson gown iridescent in the glow from the volcanic rain outside.  "It’s so hard to mutate good help these days,“ she said with a smirk.  
  
"You’re telling me,” he said, a hint of a smile breaking through his anger.  "How’s Kalaran?“  
  
"He’ll make a full recovery in time.  None of his wounds are that serious, and he’s so young, he should heal quickly.  His grief is worse than his pain at this point, I think.”  
  
Nefarian shook his head sadly.  "His father was a great fighter and tactician. I still can’t believe he was struck down by some lousy dwarves.“  
  
"Indeed.  It’s quite–”  
  
An orc’s gruff voice rang out from across the balcony.  "Master, we captured an intruder who says she’s here to see you.“  
  
Onyxia gave an irritated sigh at the interruption.  
  
Nefarian scowled at the orc.  "What sort of intruder?”  
  
“A goblin, milord.  She just walked up to the south entrance of the mountain and demanded to see you.  She’s got a bag full of dragon eggs.”  
  
Nefarian sprang to his feet, suddenly pale.  "A goblin?“  
  
"Yes, Master.  Said her name wa–”  
  
“Send her away,” he snapped.  "But don’t harm her.“  
  
"Yes, sir.”  
  
“What’s wrong?” his sister asked when the orc had departed.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“You look like you’re about to faint.”  
  
“I’m fine,” he snapped.  "The last thing I need today is to have some goblin trying to sell me dragon eggs at a ridiculous price.“  
  
Onyxia stretched and wandered toward the edge of the balcony.  "Well, I’d love to stay and discuss the incompetence of your minions further, but I should be headed back to Stormwind.”  
  
“That’s a topic that could keep us here for days,” he said with a snort.  He came over and embraced her.  "Fly safe.“  
  
"I will.  I hope Kalaran feels better soon.”  She gave him a peck on the cheek before backing up to shift into her true body. “Good luck with everything.”  
  
“Thanks.  Same to you.”  
  
Onyxia launched herself into the air and was quickly lost to sight amid the ashfall.

Nefarian went to the edge of the balcony and gripped the railing.  Now alone, his thoughts immediately turned back to the unexpected goblin visitor.  His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he bowed his head in an attempt to calm himself.

It had to be Rhea.  Nothing else made sense.  No one else would show up at Blackrock with dragon eggs, demanding to speak to him.  
  
How dense and foolish could she be, returning after he forbid it?  Walking boldly up to the door and asking to see him?  He should have followed up on the threat he made the last time they parted and had her killed.  
  
No, that was the Old Gods talking.  He could never hurt Rhea.  He loved her.  Had always loved her.  
  
A dizzying pulse of guilt and relief washed over him as he admitted it to himself.  So much had changed in the last ten centuries.  His name.  His dragonflight.  The mortal races of the world. The continents themselves.  But not that.  He had never stopped loving Rheastrasza.  
  
“Damn it,” he muttered.  
  
 _Weak,_ scoffed the Old Gods.  
  
“Probably,” he agreed.  Still in his human form, he climbed up onto the railing of the balcony and flung himself into the storm of falling ash.

 

* * *

 

Flying through a tempest of volcanic debris was neither easy nor particularly pleasant, but Nefarian’s huge wings carried him swiftly to the south and east until he broke into the relatively clear air above the steppes.  
  
 _This is stupid.  I shouldn’t be doing this,_ he told himself.  
  
Yet he continued onward, circling lower to peer at the broken path that led away from Blackrock Mountain.  Drifts of ash obscured the road in many places, and the visibility was poor.  Black dragons were adapted for such conditions, but a red would be unable to fly until she got well away from the volcano.  She couldn’t have gotten far on foot.  
  
 _You_ are _going to kill her when you find her, correct?_ asked the Old Gods, sounding almost bored.  
  
 _That is none of your business_ , he thought back.  
  
A line of footprints materialized out of the gloom.  Aha!  
  
He swooped lower to investigate, but the air current from his wings sent the ash swirling in plumes that obscured the prints and everything else.  He considered shifting into his human guise, but that body would have a difficult time breathing or seeing at the moment.  
  
“Rhea!” he called.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
He walked in the direction the footprints had been going.  "Rhea!“  
  
"Romathion?”  
  
The voice was so quiet that at first he dismissed it as wishful thinking, but it repeated itself.  
  
“Romathion? Is that you?”  She had been weeping.  Even after all this time he could tell it just from the sound of her voice.  
  
“Rhea!  Where are you?”  He caught a glimpse of movement ahead and edged forward carefully.  
  
The explosion that had formed the Burning Steppes had flattened most everything that had been there before.  Many of the ruined buildings and felled trees had been buried by the volcano in the years since, but a few traces were still visible amid the desolation.  The dessicated remnant of what had once been a century-old oak tree lay at the side of the path, and Nefarian spotted a green figure peeking out from behind it.   
  
She saw him at the same time, and waved frantically. “Romy!  Over here!”   Speaking made her choke on the ash, however, and she began coughing violently.  
  
Without a second thought, he scooped up her tiny goblin form in his paws and took to the air.  
  
Rhea continued to cough uncontrollably, and he shielded her against his chest as he hurried to climb above the clouds.  "Hang on,“ he said.  
  
The high altitude was mostly clear of ash, but the air was thinner, and she was still unable to catch her breath.  Sensing this, Nefarian banked and flew as fast as he could toward the snowy slopes of southern Dun Morogh. He landed, smearing ash onto the snow, and set her down.  
  
Rhea immediately shifted back into her true form.  "Oh, that was horrible,” she gasped.  She coughed briefly, but her lungs in this body were clear.  
  
“What kind of foolish scheme are you up to?” he snarled.  "My guards could have killed you. You could have suffocated on ash.  Do you have a death wish?“  
  
"I didn’t expect the mountain to be in active eruption.”  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question.  Why did you come back?  I told you I couldn’t guarantee your safety if you returned to Blackrock.”  
  
“But you just saved me,” she said with a smirk.  
  
“That’s–  I–  Damn it, Rhea, don’t put me in this position!  I can’t–  I can’t–”  
  
“Can’t what?”  
  
“I can’t stand to see you get hurt!” he snapped, although his anger was directed at himself, not at her.  
  
“Oh, Romy.”  She sounded pleased and flattered, which only agitated him further.  
  
“Don’t call me that!”  
  
“But–”  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
Her smile quickly faded in the face of his ire.  "I want to help you.“  
  
"There’s nothing you can do.  The whispers can’t be stopped.”  
  
“I know.  But I might be able to help with your work.  The perfect dragonflight, with the strengths of all five and none of the Titans’ restrictions…I think it’s possible.  I brought some of my eggs, the ones that didn’t hatch.  You can study them.”  
  
“Rhea, you can’t be serious.  Your flight’s mission is to preserve life, not twist it into forms the Titans never intended.”  
  
She stepped closer with a hard look in her emerald eyes.  "The Titans never intended us to love each other, either, but that didn’t stop us. Please, Romy.  Let me help you.“

He stared into her eyes, a dozen contradictory answers on the tip of his tongue. "I’m not a good dragon anymore, Rhea.  I’m corrupted. I do terrible things, and I _enjoy_ them.  The last thing I want is to drag you down with me.”  
  
“The fact that you know they’re terrible things, and that you shouldn’t enjoy them, means you aren’t too far gone.”  
  
“Don’t be naive.  I am Nefarian, the Blackwing, Lord of Blackrock Mountain, Heir of the Destroyer.”  
  
“And my beloved Romathion.”  
  
“Rhea, please.  There’s nothing you can do.  Just go away and save yourself.  Don’t get mixed up in this.”  
  
She nuzzled her snout against his cheek.  "I already am.  I told you once I’d love you forever, and forever isn’t over yet.“  
  
His resolve wavered at her touch.  "Rhea, I…  Titans help me, I love you, too.  I never stopped.  I never will.” Without deciding to, he put his arms around her and squeezed her against him.  
  
“I know this is hard,” she said quietly.  "Believe me, I know.  But ever since I learned you were still alive, Romy, I…  I have to be with you.  I can’t lose you again.  I know you’ve changed.  I’ve changed, too, in less drastic ways. But none of that matters.  This–“  She tightened her hold on his body.  "This, between us, is still there.  That hasn’t changed.  You feel it, too, don’t you?”  
  
He slowly rubbed her shoulder.  "I do,“ he admitted in barely a whisper.  
  
"I’ve been your secret mate before,” she breathed against his neck.  "No one has to know.  Just, please, Romy…let me be a part of your life again.“  
  
He kept his eyes closed, imagining they were back in their seaside lair, before the Sundering, before everything fell apart, before he had ever heard a sinister voice in his head, before the name Nefarian had ever been uttered.  He clung to her, trembling, listening to her heart beat and feeling her breath against his scales.  "Oh, Rhea.  I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
Their bodies responded to each other the same way they always had, and when they finally flew away the snow had melted from the mountainside for many yards in all directions. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rheastrasza loved him as Romathion. Can she love him as Nefarian after seeing what he’s been up to in Blackrock Mountain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Genetic engineering, body horror, anonymous offscreen child/whelp deaths, preserved bodies. Mention of terminal illness. Mention of nausea/vomiting.]

The drakonid guards at the mountain entrance saluted as Nefarian landed in front of them.  He held out one paw.  A goblin sat on his palm wearing a damp cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth to protect against the ash that still swirled through the air.  
  
“I changed my mind,” Nefarian told them.  "She is welcome here.  Remember that.“  
  
"Yes, Master,” both guards said, bowing.  
  
Nefarian set her down, then shifted into his human form.  They entered the mountain together.  
  
When they were out of earshot of the guards, winding their way up the sloping stone pathway that ran around the central magma pit, he spoke. “You want to be a part of my life again?  Let me show you what that entails.  If, after the grand tour, you want to fly away and never set foot here again, I will understand.”  
  
“I won’t,” she vowed.  
  
“You haven’t seen everything yet,” he said grimly.  
  
“I have an idea.”  
  
He said nothing.

The orcs that inhabited the lower reaches of Blackrock Spire dropped what they were doing to pay respect as their master passed by.  He nodded curtly to acknowledge some of their salutes and bows while ignoring others.

“You’re a popular guy,” she said with a smirk.  
  
“I am _feared_ ,” he corrected her.  "And with reason.  I do not tolerate failure from my mortal minions.“  
  
They continued wending their way through the torch-lit corridors, past trolls and ogres who responded to him with the same obeisance.  
  
"Quite a diverse group you have here,” Rhea said.  
  
He nodded, but seemed to grow more withdrawn the further into the mountain they got.  All too aware of keeping up appearances, she refrained from holding his hand or trying to speak too candidly.  
  
They passed into a vast chamber that must have been used as a meeting hall when dwarves controlled the place, although the floor was bare of any seating now.  A particularly large dragonspawn stood on a raised dais on the left side of the room, studying a curious winged orb on a stand. He dropped what he was doing and descended from the platform to bow before Nefarian.  
  
“Master.”  
  
“Razorgore.  Any progress with the orb?”  
  
“Yes, my lord.  The mind control now lasts for nearly a minute.” He gestured across the room, where an orc stood still as a statue.  His expression was completely blank, as if he was awaiting a command.  Rhea hadn’t even noticed him there until now.  
  
“Good.  Keep working on it,” Nefarian said.  
  
They continued on into the next chamber, which was still large but not quite as immense as the one where Razorgore was.  
  
“Mind control?” Rhea prompted quietly.  
  
“A useful artifact came into my possession recently,” he said flatly. “I don’t expect you to approve.”  When she did not respond, he continued.  "I’ve gotten to know a fair amount on the topic after centuries of the Old Gods meddling with my flight.  An effective weapon, you must admit.“  
  
"I…suppose so,” she said carefully.  
  
They climbed a ramp to the next level of the complex, and met a group of goblins headed in the other direction.  "Hey, boss,“ said the one wearing the fanciest goggles and the dirtiest overalls.  
  
Nefarian nodded absently and continued on his way.  
  
The goblins all gave Rhea appraising looks, some admiring her figure and others apparently trying to determine if they knew her.  She gave an awkward smile and hurried after Nefarian.  
  
"You let them speak to you like that?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth, glancing back at the goblins.  
  
He shrugged.  "That’s about as much respect as one can expect from their kind.  No offense, my dear.“  
  
She looked down at her current form and smirked.  "None taken.”  
  
They crossed a medium-sized chamber full of barrels and other supplies, then ascended a short ramp.  Before they reached the top, Nefarian seemed to hesitate.  "This…  This is where you may be…disturbed,“ he said grimly.  "When last we met, you were looking for whelps stolen from your flight.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“This is where they went.”  
  
Rhea followed him into the next room, a long chamber filled with mounds of straw.  Dragonspawn wandered around, tending to the nests. There were whelps everywhere:  fluttering in the air, perched on the masonry, lying in the straw, sitting in corners. Most were red and green, but there were many bronze and even some blue ones among them.  Curiously, they all appeared to be the same age, little more than hatchlings.  
  
“What…?  How…?”  Rhea looked around in confusion.  "What is this?“  
  
"This is the suppression room,” Nefarian said matter-of-factly.  "Here the whelps I’ve collected from the other flights are kept until I need them for my experiments.  See those short pillars along each side of the room?  Those emit powerful magic that effectively stops the aging of anyone nearby.  They also are enchanted to detect hostile intent, so if any of the prisoners try to escape or attack they find themselves sluggish as molasses.“  
  
"That’s…”  Rhea let her voice trail off and merely wrinkled her nose, unable to think of the appropriate words.  
  
“I know,” he muttered.  "But necessary.  I need them to stay as young as possible for my research.  This way they don’t grow too fast.“  
  
"They seem…normal.”    
  
A red and a blue whelp nearby began play-fighting, tussling in the straw and making happy chirping noises.  
  
“They are,” Nefarian said with a small shrug.  "Many of them have never known anything else.  This is home, such as it is.  You’ll notice they’re all well-fed and healthy.  Well, except for that one, but we’re working on it.“  
  
One of the female dragonspawn sat on the ground, administering medicine to a bronze whelp who was curled into a ball, peeping miserably.  
  
Drawn by her natural nurturing instinct, Rhea went over to examine him.  "What’s the matter, little one?”  
  
“My tummy hurts,” the bronze whelp whined.  
  
The dragonspawn who had been tending to him looked at her oddly, but backed off upon seeing that Nefarian did not object to the strange goblin’s interference.  
  
“You’ve been giving him oil of earthroot?” Rhea asked.   
  
The dragonspawn nodded.

Rhea gently coaxed the whelp into straightening out as best he could, then placed her hands on his stomach.  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.  Green energy began to radiate from her fingers and coil around the tiny dragon.  After a minute she stopped channeling the spell and opened her eyes.  "Is that better?“  
  
The whelp was obviously more relaxed.  "Yes!  A lot better!”  
  
“Good,” she said, patting his head.  "Try not to eat too much for the next day or so, get plenty of fluids, and you should be feeling fine very soon.“  
  
"Thank you!”  
  
“You’re welcome, little one.”  
  
Rhea stood up and turned back to Nefarian with a smile.  
  
He stammered for a moment, looking from her to the bronze whelp and back again.  "Well.  Good.  Let’s, uh, move on, then.“  
  
They went up another small incline and turned to find a second room just like the first, filled with whelps of all colors.  These, too, seemed quite content, considering their unusual circumstances. Rhea did notice that they seemed to shy away from Nefarian himself, but otherwise they went about their business like any normal hatchlings.  
  
"They all seem well taken care of, considering they’re prisoners,” she said quietly.  "Do I want to know what happens to them when you’re ready to, er, use them?“  
  
"Probably not,” Nefarian said flatly.  "But if you want to be with me, you’re going to find out.“  
  
There were more goblins in the next chambers they passed through, as well as the usual orcs and dragonspawn, plus some blood elves.  They all were hard at work, studying yellowed tomes and tinkering with tables full of lab equipment.  Some were sending glowing liquids through curling tubes and into beakers.  Others were carefully squeezing droplets of potion onto ingots of a strange metal that Rhea had never seen before.  Tanks of liquid bubbled and simmered along the walls.  A few appeared to contain blood, but Rhea chose not to look at those too closely.  
  
"Preliminary research and development,” Nefarian said, gesturing at the busy scene.  "These technicians and spellcasters sort through thousands of recipes and spells, combining different materials to see how they interact with one another.  By sheer volume alone, they’ve found some promising clues.“  
  
"Father!”  
  
Nefarian turned around to see a large drake swooping down from the next level of the laboratory.  "Ah, Firemaw.  How goes it?“

"Fine, for the most part.  The elemental division is at a bit of a standstill until the next shipment of water essence is delivered.  Due to the siege we had to route the delivery around to the south, so things got behind schedule.”  
  
“Hmm.  Nothing we can do about that.  Keep up the good work.”  
  
“Thank you, Father.  We will.”  The drake flew away without giving Rhea a second glance.  She was, after all, just one of many goblins around.  
  
Nefarian and Rhea continued on.  "Your son?“ she said after a moment.  
  
He kept his gaze straight ahead, ignoring her attempt at eye contact.  "One of six who help supervise the operations.”  
  
“I’m glad.  You deserve good, strong children.”  
  
The unspoken memory of their own, nearly powerless daughter from so many years ago made them both fall silent.  
  
“Hello, Father!” called another drake from across the room.  
  
Nefarian raised a hand to acknowledge him.  "Hello, Flamegor.“  
  
They reached the end of the winding series of laboratories, and Rhea caught a whiff of fresh air from somewhere up ahead, as well as something very strange.  It was a mix of canine and draconic scents, mixed with brimstone and feces.  
  
A snarling bark and thudding footsteps approached, and Nefarian grinned.  "Here, boy!”  
  
The beast that emerged from a side corridor was unlike anything Rhea had ever seen.  Its purple body was stocky and solid muscle, supported by four stout legs.  It was almost twice the size of Nefarian’s human form.  A stubby, pointy tail wagged behind it, and two rows of huge spikes grew out of its back.  The oddest thing of all, however, was the fact that the creature had not one but _two_ heads, each with a wide, slobbering mouth full of sharp teeth.  It would have been quite terrifying, were it not greeting its master by flopping on its side and lolling back and forth, yipping happily.  
  
“What in the world…?” Rhea gasped.  
  
Nefarian grinned and rubbed the monster’s belly.  "Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?  You are!“ he said in a comically high voice.  
  
"Is that some kind of dog?” she asked, tilting her head to get a better look at it.  
  
Before he could answer, the beast leapt up and licked both sides of Nefarian’s head, one with each mouth, leaving his hair matted and sticky.  
  
“Ugh!  Down, boy!  Down!”

The creature backed off and bowed both of its heads in submission.  
  
Nefarian attempted to fix his hair but only succeeded in making it look worse. “His training is still a work in progress, as you can see, but this is Chromaggus.”  
  
“Let me guess.  You made him?”  
  
He smiled proudly and patted the animal’s back.  "Of course. Well, I started with one of the core hounds found in the molten depths below Blackrock, but he’s something completely different, now. I’ve actually had more luck combining the different flights’ essences in _him_ than I have in other dragons.  I’m still trying to figure out why.  He has magic attacks from all five dragonflights, though.“  
  
"That’s amazing,” she said, admiring the creature with new perspective. “You always did have a knack for this kind of thing, Romy.”  
  
“Nefarian,” he reminded her.  
  
Chromaggus walked toward her, sniffing curiously.  
  
She reached out as if to pet the head nearest to her, but couldn’t reach with her short goblin arms.  
  
“Whoa, boy,” Nefarian said, tugging on the chain around the beast’s neck. “Leave Rhea alone.  She doesn’t need your toxic slobber on her.  Run along, now.”  
  
Chromaggus gave a startlingly loud bark and bounded down the corridor from which he had come.  
  
“He’s not going to fit down there much longer,” Nefarian mused to himself. “I’ll have to see about widening that passage.”  He turned around and noticed the fond, almost amused way she was looking at him. “What?”  
  
Her grin widened.  "Nothing.  You’re just…still you.  No matter what you say.“  
  
He shifted his weight uncomfortably and headed down a corridor in the opposite direction Chromaggus had taken.  "Anyway, the main labs are this way.  Put your mask back on, though.  This terrace is probably still pretty ashy.”  
  
She followed his advice, although the wind was currently blowing the ash and pumice away from the mountain.  He soon led her down a sloping passageway, back into the fortress itself.   
  
“WARNING!” screeched a tinny voice, making Rhea jump and Nefarian swear.  "INTRUDER! UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM!  WARNING!  INTRUDER!“  
  
"Oh, for Khaz'goroth’s sake, not again,” he growled.  "Wait here.“ He took a sharp right and disappeared from her sight.  
  
"BREACH!  UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM!  WARNING!”  
  
“Knock it off, you hunk of junk!” Nefarian bellowed back, and from the volume of his voice she suspected he was back in his dragon form.  There was a metallic crash, following by a fragmented voice stuttering, “–ARNING!  INTRU–  THORIZE–  –ORM!  WAR–”  A shrill siren went off, followed by another loud crunch.  
  
Nefarian returned a minute later, slightly out of breath and once more in his human guise.  At least the act of shapeshifting had undone the mess Chromaggus had made of his hair.  "Sorry about that. The dwarves who built this place originally installed a security alert system, and it’s not exactly under warranty anymore.“  
  
Rhea’s eyes were wide, but when she realized there was no real danger she giggled.  
  
"If you were a real goblin I might ask you to take a look at it,” he said with a wink.  
  
“If I was a real goblin I’d just blow it up.”  
  
“Some days that might be an improvement,” he grumbled.  "Come this way, but watch your step.  There’s a lift platform ahead, and I have to scrape at least one mortal a week off the floor when they lose their footing.“  
  
"Oh dear.  Well, I could fly to save myself if I fell, but that would kind of blow my cover.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
As they waited for the lift to rise to their level, Rhea craned her neck back to look up at the vast chamber ahead.  "Is this like the very center of the volcano?  It’s huge!“  She squinted up at the distant ceiling.  "What’s hanging up there?”  Even as the words left her lips, however she recognized the shapes with a sickening jolt.  "Are those…dragons?  Dead ones?“  
  
Nefarian was looking straight ahead with a stony expression.  "Yes.”  
  
“Who…?”  
  
“Enemies of my flight.  In life they sought to interfere with my plans. In death, their bodies will serve to further my research.”  
  
Rhea lowered her eyes again.  "I see.“  
  
The lift arrived, and he held out a hand to steady her as she stepped onto the platform.  
  
"Death is part of life,” she said quietly, almost to herself.  
  
A black drake wheeled past on the warm air currents rising from the lava pit far below.  "Hi, Father!“ he called.  
  
"Ivoroc, don’t you have something productive to be doing?” he chided without any real malice.  
  
“I’m getting my exercise!” the drake said, doing a midair backflip to show off.  "Got to stay in peak fighting shape.  You know, in case you ever let us out of the mountain to _do_ anything.“  
  
"That’s enough backtalk,” Nefarian snapped.  "Go make yourself useful before I assign you to sweep the dung pile.“  
  
Ivoroc sighed dramatically.  "Yes, Father.”  He landed on the opposite side of the lava well and padded off down a corridor.  
  
“He’s the youngest,” Nefarian said with a long-suffering sigh.  "Smart as a whip, but his work ethic leaves something to be desired.“  
  
Rhea smiled but said nothing.  
  
They scaled a broad set of stone steps and turned into a relatively small chamber with a high ceiling.  Vats of strange liquids lined the walls to either side, and long tables loaded with scientific equipment made it difficult to walk side by side across the room.  "This is one of my auxiliary laboratories,” he explained.  "Not where I normally work, but good for particularly messy experiments I don’t want stinking up my usual space.“  
  
"Master!” came a reedy voice. “I have something to show you!”  A tall, lanky figure rose from behind a line of crates.  He was slightly hunched over but bipedal, an unnatural mix of dragon and human.  A horned helmet covered his head and held a glowing goggle over one eye, while the visible eye had a wild look to it.  "This could be the breaththrough we’ve been waiting for!“  He did not have any wings of his own, but had affixed crude mechanical ones to the back of his neck.  They could not possibly be functional, and simply added to his bizarre appearance.  
  
Nefarian folded his arms on his chest and gave him a dour, skeptical look.  "Oh, do tell, Maloriak. What grand discovery have you made this time?”  
  
Seemingly oblivious to his leader’s lack of enthusiasm, the wiry drakonid practically bounced on his way across the lab.  Multicolored liquids sloshed in vials on his belt.  "Come see!“  He held out a small box for Nefarian’s approval.  
  
The Lord of Blackrock humored him by taking it and looking inside.  "It’s a squirrel,” he said flatly.  "Not a horned squirrel, or a winged squirrel. Just…a squirrel.“  
  
"Ah, but it’s not just a squirrel!” Maloriak said grandly.  "It’s the world’s first _amphibious_ squirrel!  See?  It has webbed feet, and you can’t tell under the fur, but it has gills!  It’s equally at home underwater or on land!“  
  
"It also appears to be dead,” Nefarian said, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Maloriak gave a nervous laugh.  "Oh, yes, um, I _may_ have forgotten to punch air holes in the box.“  
  
"And this is supposed to apply to my research _how_?” Nefarian asked with a hint of a growl.

“Mixing disparate life forms, Master!  If we can meld the attributes of mammal and amphibian, how much easier it will be to mix the qualities of different dragonflights!”  
  
Nefarian looked at the dead squirrel, then at Maloriak, then back at the squirrel.  He opened his mouth to speak, then apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Remember the air holes next time,” he said instead, handing the box back to him.  
  
“Yes, sir!”  Maloriak saluted with the arm that wasn’t holding the box.  
  
Nefarian bumped his knee against Rhea in his haste to exit the lab.  She turned and hurried after him.  
  
“Who…or what…was that?” she asked when they were once more out by the lava well.  
  
Nefarian sat down on the steps and rubbed between his eyes as if fighting a headache.  " _That_ was Maloriak, one of my…lab assistants.“  
  
Rhea sat beside him with a hand on his back.  
  
"He used to be a human named Ernest Malory.  Most brilliant mortal alchemist I’ve ever known.  He used to supply me–well, ‘Victor Nefarius’–with rare reagents and formulae that couldn’t be found anywhere else.  Humans live such pitifully short lives to begin with, and Malory fell seriously ill before he even reached the quarter-century mark.  One day when I came to pick up some black lotus, he informed me that I would have to find a new source for it in the future, because he was dying.”  
  
Rhea made a sympathetic noise that he ignored.  
  
“I couldn’t let all that knowledge disappear just because it resided in a fragile, mortal body.  I told him I knew of a cure for what ailed him.  He had accepted his fate, but the will to live is strong, and he had long suspected I was more than I appeared, so my offer intrigued him.  I brought him back to my lair, revealed my true identity, and showed him facets of alchemy even he had never seen.  All he had to do was swear fealty to the black dragonflight, and that knowledge would be his, along with a new, healthy body.  It wasn’t a difficult decision for him to make.”  
  
“I imagine not.”  
  
“The ritual to transform mortals to dragonsworn is a delicate one.  I don’t know what went wrong, if it was an error on my part–unlikely–an impurity in the materials, a consequence of his illness, or something even more obscure, but…he came out like that,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the lab.  "Still a walking encyclopedia of alchemy, but also rather…“  
  
"Eccentric?” Rhea offered.  
  
“Unbalanced.  Foolish.  Exasperating.  And sure, add eccentric to the list.”  
  
“Poor fellow.”  
  
Nefarian rolled his eyes.  "How about poor _me_ , who has to deal with him?“  
  
She simply smiled.  "Of course.”  She got to her feet, and by standing on the floor while he sat on the steps, found herself to be the same height as he was.  Seizing the opportunity, she leaned forward and kissed him.  
  
He kissed her back for just a moment, then drew away.  "Not here.“  
  
She pouted but kept her distance.  
  
"Besides, nothing personal, but that long gobin nose really gets in the way.”  
  
She sniffed indignantly.  
  
He smiled fondly at her, then grew serious again.  "Besides, after seeing the rest of this, you may not want to kiss me ever again.“  
  
Rhea bit her lower lip in concern.  "Romy, whatever it is, just show me.  It can’t be as bad as you’re making it sound.”  
  
Wordlessly, he went to a nearby door and disarmed the magic ward keeping it sealed. He held the door open as she entered, then shut it behind them. For a moment it was pitch dark, but then torches sprang to life at regular intervals along the walls.  
  
“Behold…the first of the chromatic dragonflight,” he said somberly.  
  
“By Eonar,” Rhea gasped.  
  
The far wall was covered from floor to ceiling with square glass panels. They were all filled with tinted liquid, and suspended within were the lifeless bodies of dragon whelps.  Their scales were a purplish-pink color unlike any found naturally. Each one had something wrong with it, from the subtle to the grotesque:  a missing limb, wings or eyes growing where none should be, strange tentacles in the place of arms, twisted spines, fangs too large for their mouths, odd spikes here and there, even a withered second head.    
  
Nefarian stood in silence, his face unreadable, waiting for her reaction.  
  
“Romy, what–?”  She put a hand over her mouth as she turned away from the hideous sight, and for a moment looked like she was going to be sick.  "What are they?  How did this happen?  Did _you_ …?“ She looked to him, silently pleading for him to deny responsibility.  "No.  Oh no.  Tell me you didn’t…”  
  
He simply nodded.  
  
She swayed unsteadily, and a welcome blackness closed in.  The last thing she was aware of was Nefarian’s hands catching her as she crumpled in a faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Notes: Maloriak’s canon backstory from the dungeon journal is: “The human Malory was a bright young alchemist until he was kidnapped by Nefarian and fused with the corpse of a dragonspawn.” I extrapolated from that. I made his first name Ernest because Mallory Square is a landmark in Key West, Florida–a town also famous as the home of author Ernest Hemingway. Obscure geeky literary reference is obscure.]


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rheastrasza unknowingly holds the key to making the chromatic dragonflight a reality…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Angst. Themes of Old God-induced mental illness and mind control. Mention of polyamory (which is canon for Warcraft dragons). Mentions of child/whelp death. Egg laying and hatching. Minor emetophobia warning for one incident of baby spit-up. Non-explicit consensual hetero dragon sex.]

When consciousness next intruded, Rheastrasza was lying on a plush divan. She was reluctant to open her eyes, afraid of what she might see, but she instinctively turned to look as a familiar voice came from nearby.  
  
“I’m sorry.  So sorry,” Nefarian mumbled. He was crouched beside the divan, grasping one of her small green hands in his larger brown ones.

The stone walls told her they were still inside Blackrock Mountain, but this was a posh sitting room completely different from the areas she’d seen so far.

“Romy?”  She pulled her hand away to help leverage herself into a sitting position.  "What’s going on?  What were those things?“  
  
Nefarian looked down at his hands and swallowed before speaking.  "Those were the first whelps hatched into the chromatic dragonflight:  the first steps toward the perfect dragons I’ve always envisioned.”  
  
“Those aren’t perfect!  Those are…  There are no words!  Those poor creatures!”  Her voice rose in both volume and pitch, and she shook her head repeatedly as if trying to chase away the memory.  
  
He nodded grimly.  "I know.  I’ve kept them preserved both for future research…and to remind me of the price that must be paid to make my dream a reality.“  
  
"The price being paid by innocent whelplings!  Romathion, how _could_ you?”  
  
“I don’t know!” he burst out, startling them both.  "I don’t know how I can,“ he added in a calmer tone.  "Romathion couldn’t. Nefarian can.  Somehow.”  He stood and turned his back to her. “I told you to stay away from all this.  I knew you couldn’t possibly understand.  How can you, when I don’t fully understand it, myself?”  He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace.  
  
Rhea watched him for a moment, reading his body language.  Part of her wanted to scream in outrage at the abominable acts he had committed. Part of her wanted nothing more than to comfort him in his distress.  Instead she simply sat on the edge of the divan and stayed silent.  
  
Nefarian stopped pacing by the small table in the far corner of the room and leaned on the back of a chair. “The whelplings you saw in that room were not intentionally created to be malformed.  After all, my goal is a viable flight of dragons who can grow and breed on their own.  When those early specimens hatched…like _that_ …I studied what I needed to before ending their suffering.  None of them lived for more than a few days outside their eggs. Their lives were not a waste, however.  Each one taught me something I could apply to the next generation.”  He paused, absently stroking his beard.    
  
Rhea faltered for something to say, but he continued before she could think of anything.  
  
“You’re right:  they were innocent.  So are my own children, but the whispers corrupt them just the same.  It has to stop.  Don’t you see? If I can purge the corruption, if I can erase the differences that drive us apart, if I can make our kind stronger, if I can fix the Titans’ mistakes, if I can stop all this–”  His voice grew hoarser as he went on, until it caught in his throat and forced him to stop for a deep breath.  "The revulsion you felt back there was normal. That’s what you _should_ feel.  Sometimes I do, but more often I don’t.  And that scares the hell out of me, Rhea.“  He gripped the back of the chair more tightly, closing his eyes.    
  
"Romy…” she murmured but still didn’t budge from her seat.  
  
“I tell myself I’m doing all this to save dragonkind.  To give my children a chance at a life without the Old Gods’ interference. To spare those like us from the secrecy and heartbreak of falling in love with a dragon with the wrong color scales.  I tell myself that, but then I wonder…are those just excuses?  Am I playing into the Old Gods’ hands all along?”  He gave a single, humorless laugh.  "Then I figure, I’m so far gone anyway, what difference does it make?  I can’t undo the things I’ve done. All I can do is press on, hoping somehow it’ll be worth it in the end.  Whatever that means.“  
  
Rhea listened intently, tilting her head with a frown.    
  
Nefarian gave a weary sigh and sat down in the chair instead of leaning on it.  "I’m sorry you got involved in this mess.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
He looked over at her in disbelief.  
  
Rhea crossed the room slowly, shaking her head in pity. “Romathion… Nefarian.  My beloved.  You don’t have to face this alone.  I can only imagine how difficult it is, battling every day for control of your thoughts and actions.  Of course you lose your way.  Anyone would.  But I’m here, now.  And I will help you.”  She stopped in front of his chair, looking up into his eyes with intense determination.  "We can do this together.“  
  
"Rhea, you’re a red dragon.  You can’t be a part of all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.  "It goes against everything your flight stands for.“  
  
"My flight stands for life:  natural, free, healthy life.  The corruption of your flight robs you and your children of that.  If there’s a chance I can help you…” She gave him a reassuring smile and patted his kneecap because she was unable to reach his shoulder.  "Life isn’t always sunshine and light.  My flight understands that.  Death is part of the cycle.“ She took a second to plan her wording carefully. "Your work here may not be pleasant.  It may involve sacrifices.  But if you succeed…”  
  
His eyes were riveted on her, his mouth not quite daring to curve into a smile yet.  
  
“I will do whatever I can to help you, my love.”  
  
Nefarian gave a half-sob, half-laugh, and slid out of his chair to sit on the floor beside her.  They seized each other in a fierce embrace. “Thank you, Rhea,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

Rheastrasza had been sleeping so soundly when Nefarian woke up that morning that he didn’t have the heart to wake her.  It was difficult enough tearing himself away from her warm embrace to start his own day. He reluctantly left her curled up in their private cavern, where her snoring drowned out the hiss of the lava running from the ceiling into a well in the corner.  
  
It was well over an hour later when he realized he still hadn’t seen her up and about.  In the three months since she came to Blackrock, she had never slept so late. Concerned, he headed back down to check on her.    
  
When he stuck his head into the cave he saw she was awake but lying back against the wall, holding her belly with both paws.  "Rhea?  Are you ill?“  
  
She turned to look at him and immediately broke into a wide grin. "No, no, I’m fine.  More than fine, actually. Come here.”  
  
He did, frowning in confusion.  
  
“I’ve suspected for a few days, but this morning I’m finally certain.” She patted her abdomen and beamed at him.  
  
His eyes widened as he realized what she was implying.  
  
“I’m gravid!” she announced with a squeal of excitement.  
  
“You’re…  Oh Titans, Rhea, are you sure?”  
  
She nodded.  "Positive.“  
  
He threw his arms around her with a giddy laugh.  "That’s wonderful!”  
  
“It is, although…”  She drew back with a worried expression. “If any of these eggs hatch, how are we going to explain a white whelp flying around Blackrock?”  
  
He shrugged.  "Much stranger things have come out of my laboratory.“  
  
She didn’t look reassured.  
  
"Rhea, my dear, I am the _Lord_ of Blackrock.  If I tell everyone the white whelp is an aberrant chromatic, no one is going to question it.”  
  
Her smile slowly returned as he spoke.  "You’re right. And if things go like they did before there’s a one-in-a-hundred chance any will hatch, anyway.“  
  
He nuzzled his snout against her cheek and gathered her into his arms again.  "I love you, Rhea,” he whispered.  "I loved Romatria.  And I will love any whelps we hatch together now.“  
  
She blinked back tears and squeezed him tight.

 

* * *

 

There would be no white whelps from that first clutch, however. Rheastrasza kept running her paws over the four glistening eggs, her face a somber mask.

"Are you _sure_?” Nefarian asked again.  
  
Rhea nodded forlornly.  "I’d be able to sense it if there was any life inside.“  
  
He closed his eyes, feeling foolish for daring to get his hopes up.

Picking up on his distress, Rhea left the nest and embraced him. "It’s all right, Romy.  We knew this was the most likely outcome.”

“I know.  I know.  I just let myself get carried away imagining, I guess.”  
  
“I understand.  I did, too.”  
  
They stood in silence for a minute, drawing comfort from each other. At last, Nefarian drew back and regarded her with a serious expression.  "Rhea?“  
  
"What?”  
  
“I was thinking… Instead of letting these go to waste, I…I would like to take them up to the lab and see if there’s something I can learn from them.”  
  
Rhea blanched.  She had come to terms with his experiments on the eggs and whelps of other dragons, but the thought of her own issue being treated that way gave her pause.  
  
Seeing her hesitation, he gave her a reassuring nudge with his snout.  "I know what I’m asking. If you absolutely can’t handle the idea, I’ll drop it. It’s just such a unique opportunity.  I mean, starting with the product of a single flight has been skewing the balance of powers in the chromatics.  There’s a chance that starting with more neutral…material…could make for a stable base to work with.“  
  
A mixture of disgust, hesitation, and genuine curiosity crossed her face as he talked.  "I…suppose.  It can’t hurt. It’s not as if there’s any life there to be lost.”   
  
He gave a hopeful smile.  
  
“Try it.  Learn what you can.  If nothing comes of it, well… We’re starting with nothing, anyway.  Just…promise me you’ll be doing this as Romathion.  Not Nefarian.”  
  
He bowed his head with a pained expression.  "I can’t.  When I get in the lab, you know how I get.  I swear I will be respectful, but if I slip into mad scientist mode, don’t hold it against me.“  
  
"I don’t,” she said softly.  
  
Nefarian flicked his tongue against her cheek affectionately before gathering up the eggs.

 

* * *

 

Days passed.  Nefarian barely left the laboratory, poring over the eggs with a kind of manic fascination.  Rhea poked her head in once to check on him.  He had one egg cracked open and was studying the contents through a pair of bulky safety goggles.  She took one look and hurried away without a word.  
  
On the fourth day, Rhea was brooding in their sleeping cavern, wondering if she had made the right choice, when Nefarian’s excited voice made her turn around.  
  
“Rhea!  I think I’ve made a breakthrough, but I need you to confirm that I’m not imagining things.”  
  
She managed a hopeful smile, shifted into her goblin form, and followed him up to the lab.  
  
There was no sign of the other three eggs, but one was carefully wedged into a box of straw in the corner between two crackling braziers. Rhea hurried over, heart pounding at what she already sensed from a distance.  She laid her hands on the egg and closed her eyes.  
  
“Well?” Nefarian prompted after about thirty seconds.  
  
She turned to look up at him with wide eyes.  "It’s alive,“ she whispered in awe.  
  
"So were the other chromatics at this stage.  Can you tell if it’s…normal?  Normalish?”  
  
She squinted.  "It’s too early to be sure.  All I can tell you at this point is that the whelpling inside is alive, and seems to have strong life energy.  We’ll have to wait and see how it develops.“  
  
Nefarian approached the nest box with a glass of what looked like ordinary sand and carefully sprinkled some over the egg.  
  
"What are you doing?” she asked with a frown.  
  
“This is hourglass sand from the Caverns of Time.  It speeds up maturation.  Not an easy substance to come by, of course, so I use it sparingly, but…”  
  
They stood by and watched, he with a thin smile and she with an astonished expression, as the egg grew defensive spines in seconds.  Normally it would take at least a day after exiting the mother’s body before such a thing happened.    
Rhea’s green hands were shaking when she reached out to carefully touch the shell again.  "It’s almost ready to hatch!“  
  
He put the jar of sand away in a cupboard and came back to inspect the egg again.  "And?”  
  
“It–no, _he_ seems healthy.”  She gave a nervous laugh.  "This is unbelievable!“  
  
Nefarian crossed his arms on his chest and leaned back against the lab counter.  "The different flights’ essences mixed so much more easily in this shell than in any other I’ve tried.  It was like night and day. The bronze elements were stable for once, and the green didn’t deteriorate during the process like it usually does.  Even the blue blended on the first try!”  
  
“And the red and black?” she asked with a sly smile.   
  
He knelt in front of her and kissed her forehead.  "Once again, the red and black are perfect together,“ he said quietly.  
  
Rhea beamed.  She opened her mouth to say something, but a loud cracking noise made them both return their attention to the egg. A dent had appeared in one side, and as they watched it bulged outward, tearing fissures across the shell.  They caught a glimpse of a paw, then a snout, both with bright magenta scales.  
  
Nefarian gripped Rhea’s shoulders tightly, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
Yellowish-white slime oozed out of the crack in the shell.  Suddenly, a large portion broke off and fell to the side, leaving them with a clear view of the hatchling inside.   
  
Aside from the strange coloration of his scales, he looked like any other whelpling:  two eyes, two wings, no extra appendages or deformities.   
  
The hatchling opened his mouth and made a gurgling squeak, and Rhea squealed in delight.  "Hello there!”  She rushed forward and used her handkerchief to help clear slime from his eyes and mouth. “Welcome to the world, little one!”  
  
Nefarian nudged past her and seized the tiny dragon with both hands.  "I did it!“ He held the hatchling out at arm’s length to get a good look at him, laughing in delight.  The magenta whelpling looked confused.  Nefarian shoved him in Rhea’s face. "Look at him!” he crowed.  "The right number of limbs and everything!  I did it!  I finally did it!“  
  
The hatchling coughed.  
  
” _We_ did it,“ Rhea said with a smirk.  "Now put the poor thing down before you hurt him.  Honestly, swinging a newly-hatched whelpling around like that…  Tsk.”

Nefarian sheepishly handed him over to her.

“There, there, little one,” she cooed, cradling him against her chest. The whelpling was half as big as her goblin body. “It’s all right.”  
  
The whelpling curled against her body heat with a happy chirp.  
  
“Do you have a name?”  
  
He coughed again and spit up some yolk onto the front of her dress. “No,” he mumbled.  
  
Nefarian silently made a victorious gesture.  This one could talk.  
  
Rhea patted the whelp’s back.  "That’s fine.  Take your time. You didn’t have much time in the egg to think about it.“  
  
"Are you my mommy?”  
  
She hesitated only a heartbeat before saying, “Yes I am.”  
  
The hatchling seemed to calm at that.  
  
Nefarian frowned.  "Rhea,“ he scolded under his breath.  
  
She looked up at him with a determined scowl.  "I laid his egg.  That makes him my son.”  
  
“Yes, but–”  
  
She shushed him and rocked the whelp until he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, that first chromatic whelp from one of Rhea’s eggs lacked any of the five flights’ unique powers.  Nith, as he chose to be called, was healthy but unremarkable other than the color of his scales–much like Romatria had been all those centuries ago.  Nefarian was encouraged, however, and continued his work on the chromatic dragonflight with Rhea’s help.  For his part, Nith proved to be a much more competent lab assistant than Maloriak.   
  
Late one evening, Rhea came into the lab to find Nefarian sound asleep with his head down on his desk.  She watched him for a moment, smiling fondly, before she tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
He awoke with a snort.  "It’s not supposed to have feathers!“  
  
She giggled.  "Dreaming about your work?”  
  
He rubbed his eyes with one hand, partly to hide his embarrassment. “I guess so.  There was this basilisk, and… Never mind.  What time is it?”  
  
“After midnight.”  
  
“Hmm.” He stretched and pushed his chair back a few inches from his desk.  "I suppose I should wake up and go to bed.“  He turned toward her with a sly smile.  "Care to join me there?”  
  
“Isn’t your other mate suspicious that you spend so many nights away from her?”  
  
He shrugged.  "She knows how engrossed I get with my work, especially when I’m actually making progress.“  He carefully shut the logbook that had been serving as his pillow during his nap.  "Besides, she’s told me many times I should have more than one mate, since she’s not the most fertile broodmother.”  
  
“I doubt she’d approve of sharing you with a red dragon,” Rhea whispered, although they were alone in the lab.  
  
“She’s pretty open-minded about a lot of things, but…you’re probably right.”  
  
“You’ve never asked me if I had any mates in the last ten thousand years.”  
  
“I assumed you had,” he said with a shrug.  
  
She nodded.  "I’ve had several through the years, but there’s only one right now…besides you.“  
  
A flicker of anxiety crossed his face, but he covered it by checking to see if his inkwell was tightly sealed.  "I see.  And does this other mate know where you are?”  
  
“No,” she said.  "I rarely stay in one place for very long unless I’m gravid. He’s used to me wandering off for months at the time, and he has another mate to keep him company, too.  But it _has_ been longer than usual this time, almost five months now, and I was thinking…  I should probably drop by the Vermilion Redoubt.  Just, you know, check in, make sure everything’s all right.“  
  
She immediately noticed the worried furrow across his brow, and she stood on tip-toe to look him in the eye.  "I promise I’ll come back.  I meant what I said about helping you, and we’ve made such great progress just in the little time we’ve had.  I want to be here with you. But if I vanish into thin air, my flight will be on alert.  They may come looking for me.”  
  
“You’re right,” he grumbled.  "I don’t have to like it, but you’re right.  Fine.  Go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back.“  
  
She tilted her head to kiss him, carefully angling her long, goblin nose to make it work.  "I _will_ be back, Romy.  I promise.  And while I’m gone I’ll practice shapeshifting into something more…compatible.”  
  
He raised an intrigued eyebrow.  "That would be nice.“  
  
She kissed him once more before stepping back.  "I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”  
  
“So…we still have tonight.”  
  
She gave a knowing smile.  "Yes, we do.“  
  
"Well, then. Let’s make the most of it.”  He stood up and headed for the door.

 

Perhaps the nap had rejuvenated him, or perhaps he really was that afraid of her never coming back, but that night Nefarian pinned Rheastrasza to the floor of their sleeping cavern and made love to her with a vigor and stamina that left her satisfied many times over.  When he finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, he remained partly on top of her, unwilling to let go even then.  
  
“Oh, Romy,” she murmured.  "I will come back. I will always come back to you.  I promise.“   
  
His breathing was even, slow and on the verge of becoming a snore. She stroked the top of his head until sleep claimed her, as well.

 

* * *

 

When Nefarian awoke the next morning, the only trace of Rheastrasza was a chip of red scale lying on the cave floor beside him.  
  
 _She’s not coming back,_ the Old Gods said gleefully.   _She’s gone forever. She’s seen you as you truly are, now.  She could never love a twisted madman like you._  
  
Nefarian picked up the bit of scale and stared at it.  "Five months ago I would have agreed with you,” he said quietly.  "But she’s proven herself stronger than that.  Stronger than me. Stronger than you.“  
  
Mocking laughter echoed in his head.   _Stronger, you say?  More like foolish.  Lost in blind optimism. Typical of her flight.  So eager to believe the best in everyone, despite all the evidence to the contrary.  It will cost her dearly._  
  
Nefarian closed his fist, squeezing the red chip tightly.  "You monsters made me what I am. Rhea remembers what I was before you got your filthy tentacles into my brain.  She loved me then, and she loves me now.  And there’s nothing you can do about that.”  
  
 _Oh?  We shall see._  
  
The Old Gods’ presence receded into the background:  never gone completely, but back to merely a murmur at the edges of his hearing.  
  
“She’ll be back,” Nefarian said, hoping to convince himself as much as the Old Gods.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nefarian does his best to make progress on the chromatic dragonflight and to be a good parent to his children, while Rheastrasza is both a huge help and a major distraction…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Consensual hetero sex between dragons in human forms (nothing explicit, but expect sexual references and themes, plus cuddling and pillow talk.) The usual themes of Old Gods messing with draconic minds. Mention of whelp/child death. Minor emetophobia warning for a mention of previous, off-camera sickness.]

Four anxious weeks passed in which Nefarian did his best to concentrate on the chromatic dragonflight.  The latest hatchlings had powers from the blue and green flights, but not the other three, and some of them were missing a wing.  He was nearly out of the eggshells Rhea had produced, and grew worried that he might run out.  If she never returned–  
  
No, he told himself for the thousandth time.  She _would_ come back.    
  
“Father, I don’t feel well,” whined a voice from the doorway of the lab.  
  
Nefarian looked up from the serum he was measuring to see Atramedes poking his head into the room.  The blind dragon had grown to the point where he no longer fit inside.  "What’s the matter?“  
  
"I have a headache.”  
  
Nefarian set down the beakers and measuring cup.  "And how many hours have you been playing on those infernal bells?“  
  
"I haven’t.  I woke up feeling sick, and I’ve been trying to rest, but my head hurts, and my stomach keeps making weird noises.”  
  
It wouldn’t have been the first time Atramedes gave himself a headache by producing music on the huge dwarven bells in his quarters, but Nefarian realized it was more than that which ailed his son this time. “All right, let me finish this and I’ll get you some medicine.”  
  
Atramedes flopped down on his belly to wait.  "When is Rhea coming back? She was nice, and her magic always worked better than any medicine.“  
  
Nefarian grit his teeth briefly but managed to keep his voice nonchalant when he answered.  "I don’t know.  Soon, perhaps.”  
  
“She doesn’t smell like a goblin.  I mean, she does, but she doesn’t.”  
  
Nefarian said nothing as he meticulously recorded his most recent observations in the log book, then went to rummage in a cupboard.  He found a gallon jug of a yellowish-orange liquid and brought it to the dragon head blocking the doorway. “All right, open up.”

Atramedes obediently opened his mouth, and Nefarian poured the entire jug into it.  The younger dragon gulped it down, making a sour face.  "Blecch.“

"Yeah, I know.  Rhea’s magic probably tastes better than this, too,” Nefarian said.  
  
Atramedes sighed.  "Thank you, Father.“  
  
Nefarian reached up and patted his snout.  "You’re welcome. If that doesn’t help, let me know.”  
  
“I will.”  He backed up and squeezed out into the large, central chamber, then flew across the enormous lava well and into his quarters.  
  
Nefarian watched him go, shaking his head.  It was no secret that Atramedes was his favorite out of all the offspring conceived in the lab and born to broodmothers outside Blackrock Mountain. 

Rhea’s true identity, however, was a detail he had not revealed to anyone–not even his own children.  He trusted them as far as he could trust any member of his corrupted flight, but he simply couldn’t imagine trying to explain the situation between him and Rheastrasza.  
  
Nefarian resolved to check on Atramedes in an hour to see if the medicine had helped, then went back to his work.  
  
As it happened, he had barely gotten his goggles back on before an orc messenger arrived.  "My Lord, scouts in the steppes have reported that the goblin you asked us to watch for is headed this way.“  
  
Nefarian nearly spilled the vial in his hand and hastily replaced it on a wooden rack.  "Curly red hair in pigtails?”  His voice belied none of the excitement that was making his heart race.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“Send an escort to see her safely into the mountain, and bring her directly to my chambers upstairs.”  
  
“Yes, sir!”  The orc saluted and left.  
  
Only when he was alone again did Nefarian break into a grin.  

She kept her promise.

 

* * *

 

“Victor Nefarius” was standing outside the door to his private quarters, arms crossed on his chest, trying very hard to look like he hadn’t been pacing until he heard footsteps down the corridor. He fought back a smile at the sight of a familiar green face between two dragonspawn guards and managed a stern frown instead.  "Took you long enough!  Did you cretins get lost on the way?“  
  
"A thousand apologies, milord,” one of the guards said.  They both bowed low, trembling in fear.  
  
“I expect better next time,” he growled.  
  
“Yes, milord.  Of course, milord.  Apologies, milord,” stammered the guards as they backed away, bowing and scraping.  When they were a fair distance down the corridor, they turned and hurried away.  
  
Rhea cocked an eyebrow at him.  "Did the mighty Lord of Blackrock get cranky while I was gone?“  
  
"I have no patience for lazy minions.  That’s nothing new,” he said.  
  
“It’s not their fault it took so long.  This place is huge, and my stubby green legs can only go so fast,” she teased.  
  
“I thought you were going to practice a more convenient shapeshift,” he said.  
  
“Oh, I did.  I have.  The sentries only know to let me in as a goblin, though.”  
  
“Ah. True.”  Nefarian opened the door and stepped aside, waving her through.  She entered the lavishly decorated sitting room, and he locked the door behind them.  She had only been here in his private quarters a few times before.  They tried to maintain a pretense of distance when around his minions, and their intimate rendezvous were conducted in dragon form.  
  
She turned around to say something to him, but before she could he was on his knees with his arms wrapped around her.  "You came back,“ he whispered.

"I promised I would,” she said, patting his shoulder.  
  
“I know, but…  Things happen.  I thought maybe you’d get back to your own kind and realize that you don’t belong here, that what we’re doing is wrong, that you shouldn’t be involved, that I’m too far gone.”  
  
“Oh, Romathion,” she said, squeezing him tighter. “This isn’t wrong.  You aren’t too far gone. And there’s no place I’d rather be.”  
  
“Rhea…I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.”  She took a step backward, out of his arms. “Now, want to see the new form I’ve been working on just for you?”  
  
He sat back on his heels and gave her the kind of worshipful look that said anything she wanted to do or say was fine, as long as she was there before him.  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides.  Her skin paled to a rosy peach, her ears and nose shrank, and her body elongated until she stood before him as a human. Her hair remained a vivid red, falling in curls across her shoulders, and her eyes were the same beautiful jade color as they were when in her true body.  
  
He got to his feet and found himself now only an inch or two taller than her.  
  
She stretched as if rising from a nap.  "There.  What do you think?“

Nefarian grinned hungrily and ran his hands down her sides, following the curves of her crimson armor.  "I think I like it.”

“Good.” She put her arms over his shoulders and touched her forehead to his.  "Being the same height as you does have its advantages,“ she said with an impish smile.  
  
"Indeed,” he said before kissing her fervently.  "I look forward to exploring them all.“

 

* * *

 

"What time is it, anyway?” came a drowsy voice against his shoulder.  
  
“I have no idea.  Doesn’t matter,” Nefarian murmured, stroking her back.  
  
“Were you doing anything important in the lab when I showed up?”  
  
“Nah.  There’s always tomorrow.”  
  
“True.”  Rhea shifted position slightly before settling back down with her nose pressed against his neck and her arms around him.  "Mmm… We should have done this in mortal bodies a long time ago.  All those things I’ve heard about flesh being more sensitive than scales were true!“  
  
"Mmm hmm.”  He wound a rusty-red curl of her long hair around one finger, then let it spiral free and fall back onto the pillow.  
  
The bed was of dwarven design, made of a sturdy rock base, dark wood, and rich velvet the color of storm clouds.  It would have been extravagantly large for a dwarf to sleep in, and was comfortable, though not overly spacious, for two humans.  
  
They lay in pleasant silence for awhile.  The sound of his heartbeat had nearly lulled Rhea to sleep when she heard her lover whisper, “This feels too good to be wrong.”  
  
“That’s because it’s not wrong.”  She pulled back slightly to look at him with a frown.  "We decided that eons ago.“  
  
"I know, but…  My sense of right and wrong is a little skewed by the Old Gods.  Sometimes I forget,” he said with a self-mocking grimace.  
  
She made a sympathetic noise and cupped one hand over his cheek. “Poor Romy…  What do they say about me?”  
  
He tensed slightly.  "You really want to know?“  
  
"Yes.”  
  
He gave a melancholy smile.  "They think you’re a waste of time, that I should kill or ignore you and concentrate on my work.“  
  
"But I’m _helping_ you with your work.”  
  
“Nobody ever said the Old Gods were logical.”  
  
“If anything, I would think they’d encourage us to be together. It was the Titans who forbid us to mate across color lines, after all, and the Old Gods hate the Titans.  They should be glad we’re going against their rules.”  
  
A pained expression crossed his face. “Rhea, please.  Don’t.  Don’t try to understand them. Don’t talk about them.  Don’t joke about them. Just…don’t.”  
  
“I’m sorry.  I won’t.”  She planted two kisses on his cheek and snuggled back down to rest.  
  
Another minute or two passed before Nefarian spoke again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.  It doesn’t matter what the Titans think, what the Old Gods or my father think, or the rest of dragonkind. I love you, Rhea.  When I’m with you, nothing else matters. You make me believe that anything’s possible. That…that I might actually succeed in what I’m trying to do with the chromatics.”  
  
“You will, Romathion,” she said earnestly, squeezing his hand.  
  
He took a deep breath and let it go slowly.  "With your help.“  
  
"I do what I can…which isn’t much most of the time.”  
  
“You help more than you know,” he whispered, holding her even tighter.  
  
Sleep closed in around them, and they lay in a tangle of silk sheets for many blissful hours.

 

* * *

 

 

Nefarian was briefly confused to wake up with a strange, pink-skinned human in his bed, but after a moment he smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead.  "Morning, my dear,“ he purred.  
  
She smiled at the sound of his voice and turned her head toward him without opening her eyes.  "Morning.”  
  
“Sleep well?”  
  
She hummed an affirmative and rolled over to put her arms around him. “I never want to move from this spot,” she mumbled.  
  
“I know the feeling, but I assume you want to see how the chromatic brood is doing.”  
  
“Ooh!  Yes!  I meant to ask last night, but…”   
  
“We got distracted.”  
  
“Right.”  She looked away in an absurd flash of shyness. “So…how are they?”  
  
He inhaled and exhaled slowly.  "They’re…coming along. I’m still not able to get all five flights’ traits present in one whelp, though.  I swear they cancel each other out somehow. And there were a couple who, um, didn’t make it.  They hatched, but something went wrong, and…“  
  
"Oh, Romy,” she breathed.  "I’m sorry.“  
  
"Not the first time.  Or the last,” he said grimly.  
  
Rhea pulled him closer.  "There has to be a way.  We just have to keep looking.“  
  
"Sometimes I wonder if we’re wasting our time,” he said softly. “My flight is doomed.”  
  
“Don’t say that. We’ve only been trying for, what?  Six months? We can’t undo ten millennia of corruption overnight.”  
  
He put his chin on her shoulder and pressed his cheek against the side of her head, finding it easier to voice his doubts when she couldn’t see his face.  "Can we really expect to counteract the will of gods with potions and genetic tinkering?“ he asked with a disdainful snort. "It’s madness.”  
  
“Maybe, but at least it’s madness for a good cause!”  She stroked the back of his head.  "Just think, if we can figure out a way to make your flight immune to the corruption, you can go back to protecting the world instead of fighting against it.“  
  
Nefarian gave a weary sigh.  "Sometimes I can’t even remember what it was like, before…”  
  
She drew back and gave a nostalgic smile.  "I do. Your father would come to visit, and bring you and your brothers and sisters along.  He and the Life Binder would sit for hours on the mountainside, talking and laughing while we whelps would play in the valley below.“  
  
"You were a terrible swimmer.”  
  
Rhea grinned.  "You remember _something_ , then.“  
  
"I remember those things happening, but it’s almost as if they happened to a different dragon.  In a way I guess they did.”  
  
“Romathion–” she said in a faintly scolding tone.  
  
“That’s the point,” he snapped, closing his eyes as if in pain.  "Those things happened to _Romathion_. Not Nefarian.“  
  
She brushed a strand of black hair off his cheek with one finger. "You are still the same dragon. You can change your name, but you can’t change your heart.”  
  
He suddenly sat up and swung his legs out of bed to sit on the edge of the mattress.  His voice dropped to a colder, bitter tone. “Oh? Maybe _I_ can’t, but the Old Gods sure as hell can, and have.  Do you have any idea what it’s like having these infernal voices in my head every second of every day?  I can never be sure if my ideas are my own, or theirs.  I’ve forgotten what true silence is like. They never give up, but damn it, neither will I.  I’ll show them _and_ the Titans!  I’m going to create the perfect dragon, one with the strengths of all the flights combined, one who’s impervious to the Old Gods!”  
  
Rhea crawled over and put her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.  "I believe you can, my love.“  
  
He put his hands over hers against his sternum and let out a shuddering breath.  "You might be the only one who does.”  
  
“Then I’ll believe it for both of us, until it comes true.”  
  
He considered this for a moment, then gave a single laugh.  "Oh, Rhea.  What have I done without you for all these years?“  
  
"Been pretty miserable, from the sound of it,” she teased.  "Now come on, get dressed.  I want to see how our children are.“  
  
He opened his mouth to remind her that the chromatics were not technically their children, but closed it again with a fond smile.  "As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

It was far less conspicuous to move through Blackwing Lair as a goblin, so Rhea shifted back into her usual mortal form before leaving Nefarian’s chambers.  The guards they passed bowed or saluted their leader but did not give her a second glance.  
  
They strolled through the torch-lit halls and corridors, winding their way deeper into the mountain until they reached the main laboratory.  Rhea grinned in excitement as she walked past vats of strange liquids, cabinets overflowing with supplies, simmering beakers, and bins containing an odd assortment of horns, claws, bones and fangs. 

The first time she saw this room, she had been filled with unease.  Now, it was like returning home.

“I can’t wait to get tinkering again,” she said.  
  
Nefarian smirked over his shoulder at her.  "Don’t you mean, ‘This is an unnatural, twisted, disgusting abomination and no self-respecting red dragon would have anything to do with it’?“  
  
"Yeah, well, luckily for you, I’m no self-respecting red dragon.”  
  
He chuckled.  "Here’s the records from the experiments I did while you were gone.  I thought you could look them over, see if I’m missing something, and–“  
  
"Father!”  
  
Nefarian turned toward the door.  
  
Flamegor entered in human form, chainmail armor clinking as he walked. “Father, there you are!  Atramedes is ill and has been asking for you.”  
  
Nefarian winced and put a hand to his forehead.  "I forgot,“ he muttered. Then, raising his voice again, he said, "I’ll be right there” and hurried out of the lab.

 

* * *

 

Atramedes was lying on his side with his back to the door, the bulk of his dark gray body in shadow.  Nefarian shifted into his true form as he crossed the vast chamber.  "Atramedes!  I’m here!“  
  
The blind dragon turned his head toward the sound of his voice.  "Father?”  
  
Nefarian put a paw on Atramedes’ shoulder and frowned at the obvious fever he felt.  "How are you?“  
  
"Terrible,” he said hoarsely.  
  
“The medicine didn’t help?”  
  
“It might have, if I had kept it down longer.”  
  
Nefarian shook his head in pity.  "I’m so sorry I didn’t check on you. Things happened, and…  There’s good news, though! Rhea’s back!  She can help you!“  He turned back toward the entrance to the high-ceilinged chamber, where she stood uncertainly.  "Rhea!”  He beckoned her over.  
  
It took her longer to cross the room than it had him, as she stayed in her mortal form.  When she reached Atramedes, she set one tiny green hand on his tail and immediately drew back at the high heat. “Oh my, that’s quite a fever you’ve got,” she said.  "You poor thing!“  
  
"Rhea?” Atramedes said, perking up when he heard her speak.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Can you make me feel better?”  
  
“I will certainly try.”  She hesitated and turned to glance at Nefarian.  "Healing someone this size will be difficult in this body,“ she whispered to him.  "Do you think it would be safe to shift back?”  
  
Nefarian moved to the door and sat down, blocking it with his body. “It is now,” he said smugly.  
  
Rhea nodded gratefully and stepped back from Atramedes to give herself room to shapeshift.  She stretched and grew, green skin giving way to red scales, pigtails morphing into horns, until she loomed over her patient.  "All right, dear. Let’s see…“    
  
She laid both her paws on his stomach, and although he cringed as if it hurt he did not move away.  She closed her eyes to concentrate.  "Hmm.  Yes…  All right. Here.” She took a deep breath, and as she let it out a green nimbus of magic spread from her paws, across Atramedes’ body.  The ailing dragon visibly relaxed.   
  
Rhea kept channeling the spell for several minutes, moving her paws to different areas from time to time.

“There,” she said at last.  The green glow faded, and she stepped back with a smile.  "How do you feel now?“

Atramedes sighed dreamily.  "Better.  So much better. Thank you!”  
  
“You’re welcome.  Now, take it easy for the rest of the day and drink plenty of fluids, all right?”  
  
“I will.  And…Rhea?  I thought I felt… Are you a dragon?”  
  
She glanced over at Nefarian with a guilty expression.  "Um, well, yes I am, actually.  It’s supposed to be a secret, though.“  
  
Atramedes smiled and wiggled into a more comfortable position to lie down.  "I’m glad.”  
  
“Oh?  Why is that?”  
  
“Goblins don’t live very long compared to dragons, and I like you.”  
  
Rhea placed a motherly paw on his back and patted him.  "Thank you, Atramedes.  I like you, too.  Now get some sleep.“  
  
"Mmm hmm.”  
  
Rhea went over to where Nefarian sat and nuzzled her snout against his cheek.  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered.  
  
They both shifted down into their mortal forms to fit through the door and left Atramedes, who was already snoring softly.  
  
Once they were back out in the courtyard surrounding the lava well, Nefarian made a fist and smacked the stone wall with a growl of frustration. “I knew he wasn’t feeling well last night.  I should have checked on him.  I’m a lousy father.”  
  
As a goblin, Rhea could only reach to his hip, but she put a comforting hand on his leg. “These things happen. You didn’t let him suffer on purpose. Besides, you did give him medicine.  It’s not your fault it didn’t work.”  
  
“I know, but…I failed him once.  He’s blind because of me.”  
  
“He’s blind because of Maloriak,” she said.  
  
“Because I let him experiment on whelps.  My own children.”  
  
“Romy…”  
  
“Don’t call me that unless we’re alone,” he said sternly.  
  
“Fine.  Nefarian.  Don’t be so hard on yourself. Nobody’s perfect.”  
  
“There’s 'imperfect,’ and then there’s 'tainted by the Old Gods.’”  
  
She shook her head.  "And there’s 'stubborn.’  Which you are. But didn’t you notice?  He realized I was a dragon, but he never asked what flight I was from.“  
  
His anger lessened a fraction as he considered this.  "True. He probably just assumed you were one of our flight.  He’s led a rather sheltered life, so I suppose he doesn’t understand that healing magic isn’t something black dragons have.”  
  
“Probably.  But it’s nice to know there’s at least one other dragon out there who doesn’t care what color my scales are.”  
  
He looked down at her with a bewildered frown for a moment before finally giving in to a thin smile.  "Well, he’s my son, after all. He inherited my good taste.“  
  
She smirked.  "That’s got to be it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the closest thing to domestic bliss that two mad scientist dragons carrying on a secret affair can have, until an interloper named Vaelastrasz starts poking around…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: The usual themes of genetic engineering, eggs that don’t hatch, mentions of mild body horror, etc. Consensual hetero foreplay, implied sex, and pillow talk between dragons in human form. On a related note, Maloriak needs to learn to knock. Heh.]

The next few years passed in much the same manner.  Rhea spent most of her time at Blackrock Mountain, helping Nefarian with his research and laying the inert eggs that had proved so crucial to the chromatic dragonflight.  She visited the Vermilion Redoubt every few months to keep up appearances, and as far as she knew no one there suspected her secret.    
  
After one such sabbatical from Blackrock, Rhea hurried back to what she had come to think of as “home.”  The sentries were all familiar with her by now, and merely nodded as she walked into the mountain lugging a heavy-looking pair of bags.  Despite her small stature, she did not appear to be struggling at all under the burden. Fortunately the orcs and dragonspawn were not observant enough to find that odd.  They all believed her to be a goblin, and had no real reason to think otherwise.  
  
After all, goblins had been serving the black dragonflight since ancient times, when they fashioned Deathwing’s first armor.  There were a number of goblin technicians serving in Blackwing Lair, as well, so no one gave her a second glance as she strode through the torch-lit halls, up ramps and around corners, navigating the winding corridors of the mountain fortress with familiar ease.    
  
“Ah,” purred a deep voice from a nearby doorway.  "My scouts told me to expect you, and your…cargo.“  
  
She smirked up at the armored figure known as "Lord Victor Nefarius,” one rusty-red curl of hair flopping down on her forehead.  "I brought the usual, and a special surprise.“  
  
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.  "Excellent.” He stepped aside to let her through the doorway.  When she was through, he pulled the heavy door shut.  There were no guards in this stretch of corridor, leaving them free to converse more openly.  
  
“Welcome back,” Nefarian said, stooping to embrace her.  
  
“It’s good to be back,” she said with a broad smile.  
  
He tried to kiss her and grimaced at the awkwardness of her goblin nose. “Hold that thought until you shapeshift,” he said with a small pout.  
  
She laughed.  "Understood.“  She laid the twin sacks on the floor in a well-lit area, and he eagerly opened one.   
  
He grinned at the sight of four crimson dragon eggs.  They had a dull sheen compared to freshly-laid eggs, and the defensive spines had already grown in.   "Splendid,” he said, rubbing his hands together.  
  
“There are three more in the other bag, as well as my surprise,” Rhea said.  
  
“Seven eggs?  You’ve outdone yourself, my dear,” Nefarian said, nodding in approval.  
  
“Well, I knew we were getting low on raw material from my flight.  How are the chromatics doing?  Did I miss any breakthroughts?”  
  
His smile faded a bit.  "No.  They’ve been about the same.“  
  
"Any luck figuring out why so many were hatching with deformed jaws?”  
  
“I narrowed it down to something to do with the green flight’s components, but I haven’t been able to isolate what part is causing the problem.”  
  
“Hmm.  Back to the drawing board, then.”  She shook her head sadly.  
  
He looked down at the crimson eggs in the bag.  "Having fresh samples of red material will help.  Although it would be even better if I had _live_ ones to work with,“ he hinted.  
  
"You know I can’t do that.  Bad enough I’m bringing you these duds. If anyone ever caught me smuggling these away from the burial grounds…”  
  
“Bah.  I don’t know why your flight insists on burying empty husks.  Throw them into the lava and be done with it.  It’s not as if there are live whelps inside.”  
  
“I know, I know,” she said.  "But there could have been.“  
  
It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, and neither wanted to rehash it again.  "Let’s get these to the lab, shall we?  We have some catching up to do.”  
  
Rhea grinned.  "I thought you’d never ask.“

 

* * *

 

Maloriak was rummaging around in a crate full of random antlers and horns when they arrived.  He stood up with an eager smile when Nefarian walked into the lab.  "Oh, Master, I had the most brilliant idea for a–”  
  
“Scram,” Nefarian growled.  "I don’t have time for your nonsense right now.“  
  
The wiry dragonspawn scrambled out the door, stammering apologies.  If he noticed the red-haired goblin standing there, he gave no sign.  
  
"Good to see he hasn’t changed,” she said, shaking her head.  
  
Nefarian carefully unpacked the red eggs and put them in a cupboard that was enchanted to stay cold.  Rhea opened the second sack and passed him one egg at the time until all seven were safely in storage.  
  
“All right, here’s your present!”  She produced an oddly-shaped object wrapped in brown paper from the sack and held it out to him.  
  
Nefarian took it from her and hefted it from one hand to the other, finding it heavier than expected.  "It’s not an egg.“  
  
"As always, your genius astounds me,” she teased.  
  
“Definitely not herbs…”  
  
“Right again.”  
  
He studied the brown wrapping with exaggerated scrutiny, enjoying her growing impatience.  "I hope it wasn’t something living, since I don’t see any air holes.“  
  
"Who do you think I am, Maloriak?”  
  
“No, you’re way shorter than he is.”  
  
“And prettier.”  
  
“That goes without saying, my dear.”  
  
She made a frustrated noise.  "Go on, open it!“  
  
Curiosity finally won out, and he tore into the paper.  
  
"It’s the latest gnomish microscope!” she squealed before he even had the package completely open.  "Magnification ten times greater than the previous model, and forty-six percent less likely to explode!“  
  
"My, my,” he said, studying the contraption with new appreciation.  "This will certainly come in handy!“  
  
"I had to shapeshift into a human and go into Ironforge to buy it.” As if to demonstrate, she grew taller and paler until she stood before him in her human guise.  "It wasn’t cheap, but luckily I’d been shedding quite a few scales lately so I sold those to a craftsman, and that gave me enough gold.“  
  
Nefarian set the microscope on the lab counter and fiddled with the knobs and dials.  "So some dwarf is going to be walking around in armor made from your old scales?”  
  
“Probably. I wasn’t using them anymore, so they might as well serve some purpose.  Anyway, I had an idea,” Rhea said.  "We’ve been studying eggs, embryos and hatchlings to see how their powers and corruption develop, but we should go back even further and look at the sperm that fertilize the eggs to begin with.“  
  
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued at the idea from a scientific viewpoint, then leaned toward her with a twisted grin.  "If you want some of mine, you only have to ask,” he said huskily, brushing an auburn curl off her cheek.  
  
“I know.” She tried to match his seductive demeanor but ended up giggling. “Don’t you have samples frozen for those broodmothers who come by for artificial fertilization?”  
  
He snorted and turned away from her.  "Sure, let me thaw some out for you,“ he drawled sarcastically.  
  
"Oh, come back here,” she said, grabbing his arm.  "I’m just teasing.“  
  
"Well, I would hope so,” he said with a little pout.  "You’ve been gone almost two months.  I kind of missed you, you know.“  
  
"I kind of missed you, too.”  She kissed him then, melting into his arms with a happy sigh.  
  
“You know,” he said between kisses, “if we’re doing this for…sample collection purposes…we should be in our real bodies.”  
  
Rhea gave a devious smile.  "Nothing saying we can’t do both…“ She pressed her chest against him and began unhooking his belt.  
  
"I like the way you think,” he said with a wolfish grin.  He lifted her up to sit on the lab counter, heedless of the jars he tipped over in the process.  She wrapped her legs around him, and the next minute was a flurry of kisses and the sound of armor hitting the floor.  
  
“Oh, Romy,” she breathed.  
  
He buried his face between her breasts, panting in anticipation.  "Oh, Rhea, I missed you so much.  I want to–“  
  
Before Nefarian could finish his thought, Maloriak came scurrying into the lab. "Master, Experiment 178-D is–”  The drakonid stopped in his tracks at the sight of two half-dressed, flushed humans in the middle of the room.  Maloriak made a high-pitched noise of panic and hurried away, covering his eyes.  "I’m sorry, Master!  I didn’t know you were–  I mean–  I didn’t see anything!  I’m sorry!“  The door slammed behind him.

The color drained from Rhea’s face.  "He doesn’t know who I am, does he?”  
  
“No, no,” he assured her quietly.  "For all he knows you’re a cultist, or a prisoner, or…something other than a red dragon.  Don’t worry.“  
  
"Why did he panic so?”  
  
Nefarian rolled his eyes.  "I’ve given up trying to figure out what goes on in his mind,“ he said gruffly.  "Apparently when he got turned into a dragonspawn he retained his human sensibility about nudity instead of his alchemical genius.”   He stepped back from her and shrugged apologetically.  "Well, since the moment is thoroughly ruined, we might as well take this to somewhere a bit roomier…and private.“  
  
Rhea nodded with a nervous laugh and hurried back into her clothes.

 

* * *

 

Before the day was over, the next clutch of inert eggs was beginning to form inside Rheastrasza.  When they arrived, she and Nefarian spent two days straight in the lab, barely sleeping as they used the new microscope, red egg samples, and all their previous knowledge to create the next generation of chromatic whelplings.  
  
The hatchlings emerged from their eggs with greater intelligence, powers and vitality than any before.  No physical deformities marred their gaudy magenta scales, and they grew quickly under the influence of the hourglass sand.  Every day Nefarian and Rhea expected something horrible to go wrong, but when the chromatics attained drake size in just three months, they began to relax.    
  
The largest of the group, a male named Gyth, responded well to training and even allowed the leader of the Blackrock orcs, Rend Blackhand, to ride on his back during skirmishes to defend the mountain.  
  
The next clutch thrived even more.  Presently Rhea sat on the floor in her human form, surrounded by bright pinkish-purple hatchlings who crawled, fluttered, rolled and hopped around, all vying for her attention.  
  
Nefarian leaned against the door with his arms crossed on his chest, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
When the whelps began to tire from the excitement, Rhea carefully tip-toed around them and joined him at the door.  "You little ones get some rest, now,” she cooed, blowing kisses.  
  
There was a chorus of “okay” and “bye” and “come back soon” before they settled down in the straw in such a mound that it was impossible to tell where one whelp ended and one began.  
  
Nefarian closed the door behind himself and Rhea, and waited until they were a short distance down the corridor before speaking.  "These are the strongest, smartest ones, yet.“  
  
"I know!” she squealed, nearly bouncing on her heels in joy.  "We’re getting so close!  After all this time!“  
  
”‘All this time’?“ he scoffed.  "I spent thousands of years working on this without success.  Then you waltz in with your life magic and show off…”  His feigned bitterness faded as she put her arms around him and squeezed him tight.  
  
“We always did make a good team,” she said, tilting her head to initiate a kiss.  
  
“In more ways than one,” he said with a seductive smirk.  He pulled her into a shadowy alcove and began to kiss her passionately, tangling his fingers through her curly hair.  
  
She made a happy noise and responded eagerly.  
  
“WARNING!  UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM DETECTED!  INTRUDER ALERT!  WARNING!”  
  
Nefarian groaned in exasperation.  
  
“Tell me again why you haven’t dismantled that thing yet,” Rhea said, pouting.  
  
“ALERT!  UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM DETECTED!  WARNING!”  
  
“It _does_ work.  Sometimes.”  He sighed and stepped out of her arms. “Go on ahead to my private quarters,” he said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows at the word “private.”  "I’ll meet you there after I deal with the Omnotron _Aggravation_ System.“  
  
"WARNING!  INTRUDER ALERT!”  
  
“All right.”  She shifted into her goblin form, since she could move around the mountain without arousing suspicion that way, and they walked off in separate directions.  
  
It was a much shorter distance to the Omnotron control panel than it was to Nefarian’s chambers, and long before Rhea reached the latter he came running down the corridor after her.  She turned around with wide eyes, sensing his genuine alarm.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Nefarian panted for breath for a moment, recovering from his sprint.  "It’s not a false alarm this time.“  
  
"What?”  
  
“I’m as shocked as you are,” he said snidely.  "But that hunk of garbage actually did detect an intruder.  And Rhea…it’s a red dragon.“  
  
She gasped.  
  
"It’s calibrated to accept your presence as normal, so this is someone else.  I’ve got orcs on their way to investigate, but there’s definitely another adult member of your flight in the mountain.”  
  
Rhea closed her eyes and laid a hand on the wall, concentrating.  After a moment she twitched in surprise and gave him a worried look.  "I sense him now.  I was too distracted with the whelps before to notice, but yes.“  
  
Nefarian stooped to look her goblin form right in the eyes.  "Were you followed? Could someone have tracked you here from the Vermilion Redoubt?”

“I…I don’t think so.  I mean, I’m _so_ careful about that.  But I suppose it’s possible.  I don’t know.  Oh, Romy, what are we going to do?  If the rest of my flight knows about us, what we’re doing here…”  She shivered, knowing it would mean a death sentence.

He brushed aside a red curl of hair from her forehead and kissed her there. “Don’t worry, Rhea.  I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you.”  
  
She managed a smile and put a hand on his cheek.  "I think I should leave, though.  Just in case it’s a coincidence and whomever this is hasn’t sensed me yet.“  
  
"No,” he said forcefully.  "This intruder won’t be leaving the mountain alive.  You’ll stay here where it’s safe.“  
  
A troubled sigh escaped her.  "He might think I need rescuing. I’d hate to think of someone dying needlessly on my account.”  
  
He gripped her shoulders with both hands.  "He is trespassing in _my_ domain.  That alone is reason enough to make sure he never sees the light of day again.“  When she still didn’t look entirely comfortable, he added, "Besides, do you think for a second another red dragon would leave those chromatic whelps alive?  You know as well as I do that they’d be seen as unnatural aberrations by the rest of your flight.”  
  
Rhea swallowed and nodded.  "You’re right.“ She glanced toward the room where they had left the newest hatchlings, then back at Nefarian.  "Protect our children.”  
  
He gave a thin smile.  He had long since given up reminding her the chromatic dragons were not their children in a literal, biological sense.  "You know I will.“ 

 

* * *

  
  
Rhea sat in human form at the table in Nefarian’s quarters, reading a book about the history of high elven civilization–or trying to, at least. Her feet moved with nervous energy, and she found herself reading the same sentences many times in a row without anything sinking in.  
  
A flare of unlocking magic at the door made her spring from her chair and rush over.  "Well?”  
  
Nefarian’s expression did not give away much.  He looked more exhausted than anything else.  "That blasted intruder disappeared.“  
  
"He left?”  
  
“I don’t think so.  He just figured out a way to remain undetected by the security wards.  I suspect advanced shapeshifting and cloaking magic.”  
  
“But then…we don’t know where he is or what he’s doing, or why he came in the first place.”  
  
“Right.  It’s possible he’s merely snooping around out of curiosity.  Or he may be looking for the whelps stolen from your flight, just as you were the first time you wandered into Blackrock.”  
  
“That seems like a lifetime ago, now.”  
  
“I know.”  He managed a smile and drew her into a kiss.  When they broke apart a few long seconds later, his manner was subdued again.  "Rhea, you know how much I hate to ask this, but… I think it would be best if you went away for awhile.“  
  
She looked crestfallen but quickly recovered.  She had suggested as much earlier, after all.  "I think it would be wise,” she said quietly.

“Go back to the Vermilion Redoubt.  Keep your ears open.  Ask around, see what you can find out about our uninvited guest.  If he _is_ here looking for you, perhaps word will reach him that you’re safe and sound back there.”  
  
She nodded.  "I can do that.“  
  
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he simply shook his head and sighed.  "I’ll miss you.”  
  
“I’ll miss you, too.”  
  
“We should be used to this kind of thing by now,” he said with a bitter snort.  "Before, it was me running off to spend time with my own flight, and these days it’s you.  We’ve never been together for an entire year at the time.  Hell, not even half a year.“  
  
"Someday, Romy.  When the chromatic flight is self-sustaining, and we cleanse your flight of its corruption, we can be together openly.”  
  
“When that day comes, I’ll roar from the highest mountain peaks to let the whole world know how much I love you,” he said, pulling her into a kiss again.  
  
She melted into his arms with a noise of appreciation. Soon her armor joined his on the floor, and the world beyond that room ceased to matter.

 

* * *

 

“You should go,” Nefarian mumbled, despite the fact that he had his arms locked tightly around her waist.  
  
“I know.”  Rhea did not move her head from his chest.  
  
“I don’t really want you to.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He kissed her forehead.  "But you have to.“  
  
"I know.  I will.”  She remained still for another few seconds, then reluctantly sat up.  "Promise me you’ll be careful.  We don’t know who this intruder is.  He could be powerful.“  
  
"He’s in the heart of my domain, surrounded by my forces,” he said with a scowl.  "We may not be able to pinpoint his location at the moment, but there’s no way he’s getting out of this mountain alive.“  
  
"Still.  Be careful.”  She leaned over to kiss him one last time before getting up to retrieve her armor.  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her.  "That goes for you, too.“  
  
"What? Be careful?  I’ll be among my own flight.  I’ll be fine.”  She pulled her hair out of the back of her shirt and let it spill down her back in a crimson cascade.  
  
Nefarian stepped back into his pants and crossed the room to a cupboard on the wall.  He rattled off a spell, and the door swung open with a creak.  "Here. Take this.“  He reached inside and pulled out a fire-colored orb the size of an apple.  
  
"What is it?”

“It’s a communication device.   These things are a pain in the rear to get, and they have a limited amount of power.  But if you hold it like this–”  He demonstrated, cradling the glassy orb in the palm of his hand and positioning it about a foot in front of his nose. “–and concentrate, you can talk to the person holding the other one.”  He handed her the first orb and took a second out of the cupboard.  "I got this pair from the same thieves who provided the last round of blue eggs and whelps out of Winterspring.  So it’s blue dragonflight magic.  Doesn’t get more reliable than that.“

Rhea clasped the orb to her chest.  "I’ll take good care of it.”  
  
“Take good care of _yourself_.  If the orb comes in handy, great.”  
  
“I’ll contact you as soon as I learn something.”  
  
“And I’ll let you know if our unwelcome guest is…neutralized.”  
  
She nodded.  "Good-bye, Romathion.“  
  
He embraced her fiercely.  "Good-bye, Rhea.”  
  
Lingering any longer would only make it harder to leave, so she stepped away from him with a sad smile and slipped out the door.  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rheastrasza leaves Blackrock Mountain in an attempt to draw the red dragonflight’s attention away from her family there, but in her absence things go horribly wrong…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Confronting “the other woman,” suicidal thoughts, multiple minor character deaths, mention of child/whelp death, plus, well...you know how the Blackwing Lair raid ended. Major character death incoming.]

Two weeks later and hundreds of miles away, Rheastrasza left from the Vermilion Redoubt to go hunting.  At least, that’s what everyone assumed.  And she did kill and devour a stag along the way. The real reason for her trip away from the others, however, had nothing to do with food.  
  
Rhea perched on a mountain ledge overlooking the misty expanse of the Wetlands.  There was barely room for her huge, winged form, but at least she was assured of privacy this way.  She held up the communication orb in front of her snout and squinted at it.  The latent magic in the orb sprang to life, and she focused on thoughts of her beloved.  
  
It took a minute or two, but that had been the case the few previous times she had used it, as well.  Nefarian had to find a private location before answering.  
  
At last his human form’s face shimmered before her like some kind of ghost.  His familiar smile immediately brightened her spirits.  "Rhea!“  
  
"Hello, Romy.  Any sign of our intruder?”  
  
His smile faded.  "Just enough to know he’s still around.  We’ve narrowed it down to the upper part of the spire, but even my best tracking worgs can’t find him.“  
  
Her head fin drooped.  "Damn him.  If he was going to attack, he would have done it by now, so what’s his plan?”  
  
“I wish I knew,” he said wearily.  
  
“Well, I can tell you a few tidbits I’ve learned.”  
  
He perked up.  "Oh?“  
  
"It’s Vaelastrasz.”  
  
“Should I know that name?”  
  
“He’s one of the Life Binder’s oldest sons.  Your equal, in that respect.  He’s powerful, Romy.  Don’t take any chances. If he’s managed to elude your forces all this time, there’s no telling what he’s really capable of.”  
  
“Why is he here?”  
  
“He hates your flight.”  
  
“So does every red dragon who isn’t you,” he said with a humorless laugh.  
  
“I know, but he really, _really_ hates you.  I don’t know if he lost someone dear to him because of your flight, or if it’s the principle of the thing.  But it sounds like he’s been planning this mission for a long time.”  
  
“So it has nothing to do with you.”  
  
“Apparently not.  Nobody here suspects a thing.”  
  
“Interesting.” Nefarian rubbed his chin with the hand not holding the communication orb.  "I suppose–hang on.“  He suddenly turned around and hid the orb behind his back, giving her a distorted view of his legs and feet.  "What is it now?” he asked in the tone of voice he reserved for annoying minions.

There was a moment of silence, since she could only hear the person holding the orb.

“They _what_?” he bellowed.  "Muster an elite defense squad, and tell Rend to get Gyth ready for battle.  They’re _not_ getting past the arena.“  

The minion must have left in a hurry–a wise move, considering the anger evident in his lord’s tone–because the view returned to Nefarian’s face a second later.  
  
"What’s the matter?” Rhea asked in alarm.  
  
“Mercenaries broke in and smashed up the rookery,” he said, shaking with fury.  
  
“Oh no!  Those poor hatchlings!”  The rookery was where the eggs laid by Nefarian’s consort were incubated under the watchful eyes of dragonspawn servants.  "How many lost?“  
  
"I don’t know, but those miserable mortals are going to pay with their lives,” he said through clenched teeth.  "I have to go.“  
  
"Be safe,” she said.  
  
He flashed a fond look at her before the connection ended.

 

* * *

 

Rhea laid awake that night, wondering how her family at Blackrock was faring.  Most of the dragons at the Vermilion Redoubt slept in earthen burrows beneath enormous trees, but a few preferred to rest under the open sky.  Rhea was one of these, and she lifted her head to look out across the star-lit meadows. Enormous red lumps were scattered across the rolling hills where her fellow dragons were fast asleep.  
  
She turned to face the side of a rocky cliff instead, counting on the size of her body to block any flash of light from the orb if it happened to activate. She turned it over and over in her paw, fighting the urge to reach out to her mate.  It wouldn’t do to distract him if he was in the middle of fighting off invaders.  
  
 _I should go back,_ she thought.   _I’ve learned all I can here, and I can’t press further without arousing suspicion.  Romy could be hurt in battle.  Our children, too. I should be there to heal them.  If something happens to any of them because I’m not there, I’ll never forgive myself._  
  
She shuffled her wings and considered taking to the air right then and there.  The others would notice she was gone in the morning, but they’d shrug it off as just more evidence of her eccentricities. They would never guess where she had gone.  They never did.  
  
“Rhea?”  
  
It was only a whisper, but she nearly jumped out of her scales.   
  
A red glow flared up within the orb, and she drew it closer to her body, praying it wouldn’t be spotted by anyone.  "Romy?“ she whispered.  
  
He was in his true body this time, and she could easily see the distress etched across his face.  "Good, you’re awake,” he said with a relieved sigh.  
  
“Give me a second,” she whispered as she spread her wings and flew over the ridgeline to give herself more privacy. She landed clumsily in her haste, and immediately lifted the orb to eye level.  "All right.  Now I can talk.  What’s going on?“  
  
"Rhea, I…  I don’t know how to tell you this, but…Gyth is dead.”  
  
She gasped and nearly dropped the orb.  "No!  How?“  
  
"The same mortals who ransacked the rookery.  I sent Rend and Gyth to attack them, thinking it would be good practice. I…underestimated their strength.”  
  
“Oh, Romy,” she said, blinking back tears.  "It’s not your fault.“  
  
"A dozen or so chromatic whelps were killed, too,” he said, voice and expression nearly drained of emotion.  
  
Rhea swallowed back a cry of despair.  "No…“  
  
"I’m sorry, Rhea.  I never would have sent them into combat if I thought…  I mean, a casualty here and there is to be expected while the strongest survive, but this…  They’re mere mortals! They were outnumbered!  One of them was even wearing a dress!”  
  
“But they were killed eventually, right?”  
  
Nefarian swallowed, unable to meet her gaze.  "Some were.  The rest are still fighting my forces in the upper spire.  But don’t worry. They’ll never get past Drakkisath.“  
  
"You hope.”  
  
“I know,” he snapped.  "There’s a reason he’s the commander of all my dragonspawn.“  
  
Rhea closed her eyes and shook her head.  "I’m sorry I’m not there with you.  With the rookery, and now this…you’ve lost so many of your children today.  My heart aches for you, my love.”  
  
He swallowed before mumbling, “Thank you.”  He sighed.  "There’s something else you need to know.  We’ve captured Vaelastrasz alive.“  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise.  "You have?”  
  
He nodded.  "That old mind control orb came in handy.  I used it to amplify my own magic and subvert his will after my soldiers wounded him.“  
  
"You mind controlled him?” she said with a squeamish frown.  
  
“And stopped him from killing even more of us, yes,” he said with a defensive edge to his voice.  
  
“So now what?”  
  
“Now he’s my prisoner.  Once I’ve wrung the secrets out of him, he can fight my enemies for me.  Who knows?  I might even take the opportunity to do a live dissection.  Just think what we could learn!”  
  
Rhea had the familiar sensation of conflicting instincts twisting her stomach.  As a red dragon, such an abomination was unthinkable.  Yet the thrill of learning new things about how life worked, and of being at her beloved’s side while he followed his passions… She gulped.  "Do what you must to keep yourself and our children safe,“ she said at last.  
  
"I will.”  
  
“I’m leaving here at first light.  I need to be with you right now.”  
  
“As you wish.  It should be safe by the time you get here.”  
  
“See you soon, Romathion.”  
  
“Good night, Rhea.  I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.  Good night.”  
  
The orb dimmed, and she went back to her previous resting place to catch a few hours of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Normally Rheastrasza took a winding path across the countryside, healing wildlife and investigating anything interesting she spotted along the way.  Now, however, she flew quickly and directly toward Blackrock Mountain.    
  
Several times her eyes filled with tears at the thought of Gyth and the other young chromatics who had perished.  She had borne the eggs in which they were created, had witnessed their hatching, had nursed them through sickness, had watched them grow…they were her children in every sense but genetically.  
  
It wasn’t the first time she had lost offspring, of course.  It never got any easier, though.  Instead each fresh loss brought back memories of those who came before, all the way back to Romatria.  Rhea often wondered what had become of her firstborn, and hoped that her disappearance meant she had found happiness somewhere on her own terms.  
  
The silhouette of Blackrock became visible in the distance, shrouded as usual in a halo of smoke and ash.  Rhea remained in her true body as long as she could before landing and shifting into a goblin. She breathed shallowly through a kerchief as she made her way up the winding walkway that led to the southern entrance of the mountain fortress.  
  
The orcs guarding the door immediately blocked her path with crossed spears.  
  
She pulled down the cloth from her face.  "It’s me,“ she said with mild annoyance.  
  
"New orders.  You’re not welcome,” growled one of the orcs.  "Be gone!“  
  
"What are you talking about, you cretins?”  She put her hands on her hips and glared at them.  "You know me.  I have Lord Nefarius’ permission to be here.“  
  
The orcs exchanged uneasy looks.  
  
"Wait here,” one said before hurrying away.  The remaining orc planted himself in the middle of the doorway, frowning at her.  
  
Rhea stepped back and waited impatiently.  The longer the orc stayed gone, the worse the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach became. Had something terrible happened?  
  
When the guard finally returned, he was not alone.  
  
A human woman in a black gown trimmed in white and gold strode toward her with a haughty demeanor.  Her skin was a few shades lighter than that of “Victor Nefarius,” and her hair was a dark, rusty brown.  
  
Rhea’s heart jumped in alarm, and she stared with wide eyes.  She had very rarely glimpsed Nefarian’s consort, and had always been mixed in with other goblin minions at the time.  Now Lady Seara’s penetrating gaze was fixed right on her, and the distaste there made a sudden realization dawn.  
  
 _She knows._  
  
For all the years Rhea had been sneaking in and out of Blackrock, she had been confident that Nefarian’s consort was unaware of her presence. They had done their best to keep their affair hidden simply because they belonged to two different dragonflights.  Dragons did not experience jealousy on the same level that most mortal races did. Having multiple mates was standard practice, especially among the most powerful members of each flight.  If anything, Nefarian was unusual for only having one official consort.  
  
Seara looked down her nose at the ash-stained goblin in front of her.  "Nefarian is dead,“ she said without preamble.  
  
Time seemed to freeze.  
  
"What?” Rhea asked dumbly.  
  
Seara continued, her voice flat and her expression grim.  "Mortal forces stormed the mountain.  They killed everyone in their path. Gyth.  Rend.  Drakkisath.  Razorgore.  Lashlayer. Three of my sons.“  At this, her voice wavered slightly, but she kept on.  "Nefarian made a stand on the throne balcony.  And he fell.”  
  
“No,” Rhea said, shaking her head repeatedly.  "He…  He couldn’t have.“  
  
"He did,” Seara said, and the grief evident in her posture and tone left no possibility that she was lying.  "He fought bravely, with all the magic and shadowflame he could muster, but…“  She swallowed.  
  
"Romy,” Rhea whispered without thinking.  
  
If Seara noticed the name, she did not react.  "The mortals left after that, laden with the spoils of victory,“ she said bitterly.  
  
Rhea was too shocked to cry, but a sick, hollow feeling washed over her, and she covered her mouth.  "This can’t be,” she whispered.  
  
Seara’s expression hardened again.  "I tolerated you because you helped so much with his work, and because you made him happy in ways no one else could.  Now that he is gone, however, you have no reason to be here.“  
  
"But the chromatics–”  
  
“–are nearly all dead, as well.  And without Nefarian to continue the project, they will be the last of their kind.”  
  
“I might be able to–”   
  
Again Seara interrupted her.  "You are no longer welcome here.  Leave.  If you return again, you will be slain.“

"But–”  
  
“There is nothing here for you now.”  Nefarian’s widow turned on her heel and marched off with her head held high.  
  
Rhea stood riveted in place for a few long seconds as her brain struggled to process what she had learned.  
  
One of the orc guards took a threatening step toward her, and she reflexively turned and ran.  Ash made her cough, and without hesitation she shifted into her true body and flew away as fast as she could.

 

* * *

 

Night fell over the Redridge Mountains, but that made no difference to the red dragon curled up on a rocky ledge overlooking Render’s Valley. Rheastrasza had collapsed there hours ago and had not budged since.  The tears had come in torrents, leaving her shuddering and breathless, before she settled into a near-catatonic state of grief.  
  
How could this hurt so much?  How was it possible to be so utterly destroyed and yet still exist?  She had lost Romathion before. She had spent millenia believing he had died on the day of the Sundering.  That had hurt, too, of course, but she was hardly the only one mourning at the time.  Untold thousands had perished in the War of the Ancients.  It was terrible, but such things happened in war.  
  
This…  This was devastating on a scale she could never have dreamed.  A heaviness had settled over her that made it hard to inflate her lungs, much less take wing.    
  
Romathion.  Nefarian.  Her beloved.  Her soul mate.    
  
Gone.  Dead.  Slain by mortals.    
  
For what?  Trinkets?  Gold?  Fame?  Punishment for the black dragonflight’s actions?  
  
He had needed her.  He was struggling in the darkness for so long, dreaming of something better for future generations of dragonkind, scrabbling uphill for every scrap of agency the Old Gods allowed him. She had helped him.    
  
Even his consort admitted it.  "You made him happy in ways no one else could.“  
  
Rhea made a hoarse keening noise, unable to muster actual tears anymore.  
  
 _I helped him, yes, but when he needed me most, I was useless.  He still died._  
  
Dead.  Romy was dead.  
  
Rhea covered her burning eyes with both paws and curled into a tighter ball as if hoping to collapse in on herself and cease to exist.  
  
Suicide was anathema to everything the red dragonflight stood for as the guardians of life.  Then again, so were most of the things she had done alongside her beloved in Blackrock’s laboratories.  
  
No. She couldn’t give up.  The knowledge that had created the chromatic dragonflight only existed in her head, now.  The research they had done on purging the corruption from the black flight resided only in her memories.  Romathion had worked so hard for so long.  She couldn’t abandon his work.  
  
Making more chromatic dragons would be impossible without the laboratory at Blackrock and inert eggs from a cross-flight mating.  The goal of purifying black dragon eggs, however…  
  
Had anyone ever really tried? The Old Gods prevented the black dragons themselves from making any headway, as Nefarian had found out through the years.  And the other dragonflights were their enemies, and thus would be unlikely to do anything that might benefit them.    
  
Yet an uncorrupted black dragonflight would benefit everyone on Azeroth.  They could stop harming the world–and each other–and return to their ancient stewardship over the land.  
  
It could be possible.  There just had never been someone with the knowledge and motivation to seriously try before.  
  
Rhea rubbed dried tears from her eyes and sat up slowly.  Her limbs were stiff from being curled up and tense for so long.  
  
She would go on.  She hadn’t been able to save her beloved, but maybe–just maybe–she could save the rest of his dragonflight.  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: If you’ve read my other fic, Draco ex Machina, you’re familiar with Seara. This fic is a different AU/continuity, but I needed to include a consort for Nefarian, so I just reused her. Her personality may not be terribly consistent between the two fics, but this was really only a cameo.]


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea’s life goes on, and her grief is tempered by the knowledge that her beloved is finally at peace…until suddenly he isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Grief, descriptions of dead (and undead) bodies, child/whelp deaths, dissection, and emetophobia warning toward the end.]

It was a glorious summer day, and Alexstrasza was perched on a hilltop at the Vermilion Redoubt, soaking in the sunshine.  Her eldest son, Caelestrasz, was beside her, and they had been chatting about nothing in particular, but now sat in comfortable, drowsy silence.  
  
Alexstrasza sensed another member of her flight approaching and turned to look.  "Rheastrasza,“ she greeted pleasantly.  
  
Rhea bowed before the Aspect.  "Life Binder.  I…  I would like a word with you alone, if you would be kind enough to grant me an audience.”  
  
“Of course.”  She glanced at her son, and Caelestrasz shrugged amiably before flying away.  
  
“Come, sit,” Alexstrasza beckoned.  
  
Rhea shuffled over and sat a respectful distance away, facing her.  She seemed nervous, unwilling to make eye contact.  
  
“What troubles you?” Alexstrasza asked, tilting her head.  
  
Rhea swallowed before speaking.  "Life Binder, I am going to start an important task, and I would like your blessing.“  
  
"And what task would that be?” the dragonqueen asked calmly.  
  
“I recently inherited some research done by a dear, old friend of mine. He was searching for a way to purify the black dragonflight.”  
  
Alexstrasza’s eyes widened.  "A tall order indeed.  The Old Gods’ corruption runs deep.“  
  
"He knew that all too well.  But some of his ideas… I believe I can further his research.  I believe there is a chance to create a black egg that is free of corruption.  It won’t be easy.  It may take years.  And it would require…sacrifices.  False starts.  Dead ends.”  Rhea shifted her weight uncomfortably.  
  
Alexstrasza nodded slowly in understanding.  Such an undertaking would cost the lives of many whelps.  "I see.“  
  
"I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to restore the Earth Warder’s flight to its original mission,” Rhea said grimly.  
  
The Aspect cast her gaze toward the horizon, remembering those ancient days of harmony between all five dragonflights.  
  
“They suffer, you know,” Rhea said quietly.  
  
Alexstrasza refocused on her with a questioning look.  
  
“The black dragons.  They suffer from their corruption.  Or some do, at least.”  She studied her claws, unable to meet her queen’s eyes.  "Their children are doomed before they hatch.  If there’s a chance I could save them…“  
  
Alexstrasza edged closer, regarding the younger dragon with a shrewd squint.  "To tamper with the unhatched, to destroy whelplings who fail to respond to your efforts…  Such things invite great darkness into your own soul.”  
  
Rhea looked up at her with a determined scowl, straightening her posture. “I know.  I accept that.  But if we do nothing, the Old Gods will continue to torment the black dragonflight, and through them the rest of Azeroth, as well.  If I succeed…  Just think, my lady, our flights could be allies again!  What good we could do for the world!”  
  
Alexstrasza sensed the depth of Rhea’s passion for the topic, and could hardly argue against the benefits of such a development.  "If you truly believe it is possible, and you are willing to perform the necessary actions, unpleasant though they may be…“ She sighed.  "Eonar’s blessings be upon you.  And mine as well.”  
  
Rhea visibly relaxed in relief.  "Oh, thank you, Life Binder!  Thank you!  You have no idea how much it means to me to have your approval!“  
  
A flicker of doubt passed over the dragonqueen’s face.  "I trust you to conduct these matters in a manner befitting the red dragonflight’s role as the guardians of life.”  
  
“Of course!  Of course, my lady.  I will do only what is necessary to save our black-scaled brothers and sisters.”  
  
Alexstrasza nodded, satisfied with the sincerity of her response.  "Very well.  Keep me informed of your progress.“  
  
"I will.  Thank you, my queen.”  Rhea made an excessively humble bow before backing away, spreading her wings, and taking off.  
  
Alexstrasza watched her until she was a red speck in the southern sky.  There was clearly far more to the situation than Rhea was telling, but surely a wyrm with over ten thousand years of experience would uphold the tenets of the red flight in even this grim task.

 

* * *

 

“Titans damn it all!” Rhea snarled and flung away the half-dissected corpse of a black whelpling.  "Two days spent tracking down and capturing these whelps, and every single one of them is just as tainted as the others.“  She spat fire at the mangled corpse, reducing it to ash in seconds.

  
At first she had captured an egg here and a whelp there, trying to make as little impact as possible on any one brood.  She had apologized to each whelp individually, asked their names, explained that she was trying to help them, did what she could to minimize their suffering, ended their lives as painlessly as possible, and buried their remains with dignity.  As the years passed, the endless repetition left her numb.  Detachment made her work easier, if still just as unsuccessful.  
  
Rhea paced the length of the cavern, resisting the urge to smash something out of sheer frustration.  Her lair was a far cry from the facilities at Blackrock.  In the past five years she had managed to gather enough equipment to set up a rudimentary lab, but countless times she found herself wishing she had access to a gadget or reagent that would have been among Nefarian’s supplies.  
  
Nefarian.  Romathion.  The pulses of grief that washed over her were dull enough now that she didn’t break down crying every time she thought of him, but his memory was a constant presence in her mind.  
  
She still had the communication orb he had given her during their last meeting.  She was all too aware that he would never answer, but she still spoke to him through it when she was missing him especially badly.   
  
"Oh, Romy,” she sighed.  "What would you do next?“  She went to the cave entrance and flopped down on her stomach, holding the fire-colored orb in her paw.  Her lair was high atop a mountain between Loch Modan and the Badlands, and she had a nice view of the lake on a clear day.  Today she ignored the vista, staring instead into the depths of the glass orb.  
  
"I’ve tried blood tests and transfusions.  I’ve tried transplants.  I’ve tried every potion and elixir known to dragonkind, and some that weren’t.  I’ve used every healing and purifying ability I know.  I’ve even brought eggs to druids, shaman, priests and paladins for cleansing.  I’ve interrogated Twilight’s Hammer cultists about the Old Gods, hoping for some kind of insight.  The corruption is so deep, and is present from the earliest stages of embryonic development…”  She made a frustrated growl and closed her eyes.  "There _has_ to be something I’m missing.  Something obvious I haven’t tried.“  
  
A high-pitched, nasally voice rang out from further down the mountain path that led to her lair.  "Hullooooo up there!  Incoming delivery for Rheastrasza!”  
  
She stood up and collected herself while she waited for her visitor to make his way up to her.  
  
Despite obtaining Alexstrasza’s blessing, Rhea knew it wouldn’t be prudent to involve the rest of the red dragonflight in her plans.  The last thing she needed was some squeamish dragon lecturing her about ethics.  She did, however, secure the services of a gnome who could help her obtain some of the supplies she needed.    
  
Dr. Hieronymus Blam had recently arrived in the Eastern Kingdoms after a long stint in Gadgetzan, and was eager for new work.  The insatiable curiosity typical of his kind was a good fit with Rhea’s research, and he proved a useful liason with the mortal races.  
  
The white-haired gnome scurried toward her toting a backpack stuffed with a fresh supply of reagents.  Even more than the herbs, powders, vials and such, however, Rhea was eager for any news he carried.  
  
Usually she had only a passing interest in the affairs of mortals, as their wars and politics made no difference in her life. That had all changed in the weeks since the Cataclysm.  Now she keenly kept track of what was happening in the newly-shattered world.  
  
Rhea shifted into her goblin form to accept the packages from Dr. Blam.  "So good to see you.  Come in, come in,“ she urged.  The gnome followed her into the cavern and gave his report while she bustled around, unpacking supplies and distributing them to various drawers and cupboards.  
  
As she listened to the news of attacks and disasters out in the world, Rhea felt a renewed sense of urgency in her mission. Deathwing had returned and rallied the black dragonflight into action, which was terrible news not only because of the havoc they wrought, but because the flight’s numbers were dropping more rapidly than ever.  If she was to save them from themselves, time was running out.  
  
Rhea was so preoccupied thinking about her mission that she nearly missed it when Dr. Blam mentioned something about Blackrock Mountain.  "What was that?” she asked.  
  
“What was what?”  
  
“You mentioned Blackrock Mountain.”  
  
“Oh. Yes.  There are reports of renewed black dragonflight activity in and around the mountain.  It seems the Destroyer has resurrected some of his children as undead to oversee his operations there.”  
  
A sick, sinking feeling washed over Rhea, as if the ground had fallen out from under her and she was plummeting into an abyss.  "Who?“  Seeing Blam’s confusion, she added, "Which dragons did he resurrect?  Tell me!”  
  
Blam was taken aback by the hoarse terror in her voice.  "The worst, ma'am.  Onyxia and Nefarian.“  
  
Rhea’s knees buckled, and a reflexive grasp of the table edge was all that kept her from crumpling to the floor.  "No!  No, no, he couldn’t!  He didn’t!”  
  
The gnome shrugged.  "I have it from a very reliable source.  They’re organizing a raid into the heart of the mountain soon, though, so hopefully the threat will be neutralized quickly, before they can do anything too horrible.“  
  
"This can’t be happening,” Rhea said breathlessly.  "It can’t!  He was finally at peace!“  She gripped the table with white knuckles, shaking her head over and over.  
  
"Are you all right, ma'am?  You look like you’re going to be sick.”  
  
“Feel like it, too,” she said with a humorless laugh.  "I can’t believe this.  After everything that’s happened, his father still found a way to ruin his life.  His afterlife.  No rest for the wicked, they say…  Oh, Romy…“  
  
Blam looked utterly confused, but she did not offer any explanation.  
  
"I wonder if he can still hear the voices like that.  If there was any justice in the world…  But no, I’m sure…”  Her disjointed mutterings spilled forth with no attempt at coherence as she stormed aimlessly around the lab.  "Will he even remember…? Should I try?  Maybe it’s not true.  But oh, if it is…  Titans have mercy!“  
  
"Um, ma'am?”   
  
She whirled to face him.  "You’re certain this information is correct?  Nefarian has been raised into undeath?“  
  
Blam regarded her warily, obviously reevaluating her sanity.  "As I said, I heard it from a reliable source.  Someone who had been to the mountain himself.  It’s as accurate as I can get without confirming it with my own eyes.”  
  
Rhea swore in draconic and ran out of the cave. By the time Blam followed her outside, she had turned into a dragon and was flying as fast as she could toward the Searing Gorge.

* * *

Undeath was a curious sensation.  At first Nefarian assumed that the numbness he felt, both physically and mentally, would wear off as he got used to it, but it didn’t.  
  
He should have been horrified to find his body in a rotten, half-mummified state, but he inspected his dessicated paws and their exposed tendons with a detached sense of curiosity.  
  
He should have felt some kind of sorrow or revulsion at seeing his father’s body had been distorted even further by his corruption, with a metal plate replacing his jaw and molten rock barely contained within his ribcage, but he accepted it without much thought.  
  
He should have felt grief when he learned that three of his sons had died along with him, but he found himself growing bored as his erstwhile widow explained their fates.  
  
He should have felt regret for the suffering she had undergone while mourning him, but he couldn’t muster anything resembling sympathy.  
  
He should have been proud and surprised by how much Atramedes had grown in his absence, but he was indifferent to anything the blind dragon had to say.  
  
He felt no hunger.  No thirst.  No lust.  No fatigue.  
  
Nothing mattered but his work.  That, at least, still made sense.  He could turn on a burner, and it got hot.  He could measure potions, and two half cups still made a whole one.  His ledgers were still there on the shelves, albeit under a layer of dust.  
  
Page after page of notes on the chromatic dragonflight passed beneath his withered fingers as he flipped through the most recent logbook.  This had all been so important, once.  How many hours had he spent poring over this? How much effort had he expended?  How many whelps had paid for his progress with their lives?  
  
None of it mattered, now. After Nefarian’s death, his mother had taken his ideas and combined them with the properties of the Netherwing flight. The Twilight dragonflight she had brought into the world may not have been the perfect, balanced blend of the original five flights that Nefarian had dreamed of, but they were strong and deadly, and their Old God masters were pleased.  
  
He should have been frustrated or jealous or sad or _something_ about all that.  Instead he just stood and stared at his old scribblings as if they were the remnants of a lost civilization: intellectually interesting, but irrelevant to the present.  
  
“Lord Nefarian?”  
  
He looked up at the doorway and saw a dragonspawn guard standing at attention.  "Yes?“  
  
"There’s a goblin at the south entrance to the mountain demanding to see you.  Says her name is Rhea.”  
  
A memory reluctantly creaked into place.  Rhea.  He had loved her, once.  She had loved him, too.  
  
He should have been glad to see her.  He should have regretted the grief she must have experienced.  He should have yearned to have her in his arms again.  He should have felt affection for her.  
  
Instead his thought process lurched from step to step in a cold, analytical progression.   
  
She loved him.  Because of that, it would cause her pain to see him in his current state.  Loving someone meant wanting to spare them from pain.  He had loved her in life.  Therefore he should not subject her to this.  
  
The dragonspawn stood still as a statue, awaiting his response.  
  
“Send her away.  She has no useful purpose here,” he said flatly.  
  
The guard bowed and scurried away.

 

* * *

 

Rhea paced rapidly back and forth across the stone walkway leading to Blackrock Mountain’s southern entrance, her pigtails whipping back and forth with nervous energy.  
  
She was both dreading and eagerly awaiting the reunion to come.  It wouldn’t be easy to see him as undead, but to see him at all…  To hear his voice again… They had been through terrible tribulations before.  They had been separated for long periods of time before.  They would get through this, too.  
  
Movement at the door made her change direction so quickly she nearly tripped.  She dashed forward, but the only one there to greet her was a dragonspawn guard whose expression was unreadable.  
  
“Well?” she burst out.  
  
“Lord Nefarian has no use for you.  Begone.”  
  
Rhea gasped as if he had kicked her in the stomach.  "What? No.  No, there’s a mistake.  You told him who I was? It’s me, Rhea.  He knows me.  He knew me, before… Of course he wants to see me!“  
  
The dragonspawn was impassive.  "The Master has changed since his return, but we are still bound to obey his orders.”  
  
“He…  He is undead, then?  The rumors are true?”  
  
The guard nodded curtly and slammed the heavy door in her face.  
  
Rhea reeled back, nearly hyperventillating.  This wasn’t happening.  He couldn’t…  He didn’t…  Why…  
  
Without the slightest thought about the danger, she shifted into her true body and flew up the side of the mountain.  The volcano was dormant, making it an easy matter to spot the balcony on which the Lord of Blackrock kept his throne.  She swooped down to land, knocking loose a bit of the crumbling masonry in her haste.  
  
“Romathion!” she screamed.  "Romy!  It’s me, Rhea!  Romathion!  Nefarian!  Please!“  
  
Her shrill cries echoed down the stone corridors, but there was no response.  Then, barely audible in the distance, came a mechanical voice.  "INTRUDER ALERT!  UNAUTHORIZED LIFE FORM DETECTED! WARNING!”  
  
Then came a hoarse but achingly familiar voice. “You mean to tell me that piece of junk is still malfunctioning? Nobody’s tried to fix it in all these years?  Glad to see you’re all just as incompetent as you were before.”  
  
“Nefarian!  Romy!” she yelled as loudly as she could.  
  
The clanking footsteps of someone in heavy armor reached her ears, and she waited, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
The figure that emerged from the corridor bore little resemblance to the “Victor Nefarius” she had known.  His facial features and hair were the same, but he had the pallor of a corpse and his eyes glowed with cold necrotic magic.  His armor was different, as well: a sinister motley of fiery hues in a pattern that suggested a devouring maw across his abdomen.  
  
Rhea’s jaw quivered with unformed words, and she could only stare.  
  
“Did my message not reach you?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.  "My minion was supposed to tell you to leave.“  He might as well have been discussing the weather for all the emotion he showed.  
  
"Romy, it’s me,” she managed to choke out.  "Rhea.“  
  
"I do remember you.  There is no reason for you to be here now.”  
  
“But–  But–  Romathion–”  
  
“That name has no relevance anymore,” he said, sounding almost bored. “You insisted on using it before and I permitted it in private because it pleased you.  I am no longer concerned with such courtesies.”  
  
“But–”  
  
“I have been brought back to some semblance of life to serve my father and our Masters.  I am incapable of caring about anything else.  It’s quite curious, actually.  I know how I would have reacted to things when I was among the living, but now…  I feel nothing.  I even know I should be upset about that, but I feel nothing _about_ feeling nothing. Rather disorienting, to be honest.  Anyway, you shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“Ro–  N-Nefarian.  Please.  I can help you,” she said without having the slightest clue how she could. “Don’t send me away.”  
  
He shook his head slightly.  "I remember you being smarter than this.“  He stepped forward, away from the arch of the corridor’s entrance, and shifted into his draconic body.  
  
Rhea recoiled with a strangled cry.  
  
"Do you understand now?  Do you see what I am?  Do you really want to be a part of this?”  His tone was calm, if somewhat condescending.  
  
Her gaze traveled over the ruin of his body, tracing the ragged lines of skin and scales that barely clung to his skeleton in places, dried remnants of his internal organs hanging from gashes in his belly, exposed sinew contracting as he flexed one paw, the cloudy haze in his eyes, the tears in his fins and wings–  
  
Something coiled deep inside her, and until it reached her mouth even she wasn’t sure if it would be a scream or her stomach contents.  It turned out to be a keening wail that seemed to go on forever.  When her lungs were empty, she refilled them with a shuddering gasp, then launched herself off the balcony and flew away in a red streak.

 

* * *

 

Rhea made it only a few miles before she careened down to land on an ash-strewn hillside.  She doubled over with a painful retch and lost her lunch onto the ground.  
  
She thought she had been prepared.  She had seen undead mortals before, and found them abhorrent, but never a member of her own species.  Never someone she loved.  It was worse than she could have imagined.  
  
She had never known exactly how he had died, but the battle-wounds were there for all to see.  Countless gashes, disembowelment, near decapitation…  He had fought fiercely, all for naught.  
  
She continued heaving long after she had run out of anything to bring up.  She gasped for breath, sobbing and coughing, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.  
  
Something had broken inside of her at the sight of her beloved’s reanimated corpse.  
  
A raw, hollow pain had settled in behind her ribs that had nothing to do with vomiting.  She somehow knew it would be there until the day she died.  
  
Things that had seemed important before no longer mattered in the slightest.  
  
Forget Alexstrasza.  Forget the Titans.  Forget any grand thoughts about the greater good, or restoring the Earth Warder’s brood to their former role as guardians of the world.  Nothing mattered.  It was all a farce.  Hopeless.  Useless.  
  
She sank her claws into the soft soil, wishing she could gouge out at least a hundred of the countless eyes the Old Gods were said to have.  "I am _going_ to take them away from you,“ she growled.  "You’ve had the black dragonflight in your grasp for too long.  C'thun…  Yogg-saron… N'zoth…  Whomever else is down there listening.  Enjoy your little ‘cataclysm’ while you can, because I _am_ going to save them.  Not for that unfeeling, undead monster back there, but for my dear Romathion, and everyone else whose lives have been ruined because of you.  Wait and see.  I’m not going to let anything stand in my way this time.  Morals?  Honor? The code of the red dragonflight?”  She laughed madly and spat onto the ground.  "I’m playing by my own rules, now.“ 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times call for desperate measures, and with the black dragonflight’s numbers plummeting, Rheastrasza resorts to whatever means necessary to achieve her goal…no matter what the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Content warnings for this chapter: Kidnapping, imprisonment, child/whelp death, dissection, forced egg-laying, major character death, fire/burning, mention of Sintharia’s rape, brief description of undead bodies.]
> 
> Note: In the War of the Ancients trilogy, all winged spirits go to the Mother Tree Gha’nir (Aviana’s realm) upon their death. It is somewhat vaguely implied that dragons are included in that group, so that’s the theory I go with as far as draconic afterlife is concerned.

So it had come to this.  Rhea was hunched behind a boulder in her goblin form, peering through a spyglass at the huge, dark form of the dragon on the next mountain over.  

Not just any dragon.  A gravid broodmother.   
  
Rhea had been spying on her for nearly a week, planning how best to proceed. She had no intention of wasting time by snatching a few whelps here and there for study.  No, the situation had gone way beyond that.  
  
She tightened her grip on the spyglass and frowned.  
  
She should have been horrified at the thought of kidnapping a broodmother. Her red heritage should have made her reject the possibility of experimenting on eggs still inside their mother’s body.  She should have been revolted by the idea of forcing another dragon to lay eggs purely to be used and discarded for scientific scrutiny.  She should have been cautious about the risk of attracting the ire of other black dragons.  
  
She felt none of those things.  Not anymore.  
  
Across the valley of arid, rust-colored stone, her target wandered around the plateau just outside the entrance to her lair, stopping to converse with and nuzzle the various whelps playing there.  There was still no sign of her mate.  
  
Rhea nodded to herself in satisfaction.  Whomever the father of those whelps was, he wasn’t around to help guard the lair.  That would make her work much easier…  
  
The broodmother had brownish-black scales with orange accents and striking crimson eyes.  A mortal might not have noticed the roundness to her belly yet, but to an experienced eye like Rhea’s, it was obvious she was carrying eggs.  
  
The black dragon turned around in response to something one of her whelps said from the mouth of their lair, giving her observer a clear look at her profile.  
  
The breath caught in Rhea’s throat, and she briefly closed her eyes. From certain angles her target bore a striking family resemblance to Romathion.  This only made sense, as she was indeed his younger sister.  That was the reason Rhea had sought her out in the first place, for she carried the blood of the Earth Warder.  
  
In the days following her meeting with the undead shell of the dragon she loved, Rhea had wracked her brain for new ideas about how to purify the black dragonflight.  Randomly grabbing whelps and eggs clearly wasn’t getting her anywhere.  Perhaps if she had samples from one of Neltharion’s direct descendants…  If only she could find one who wasn’t already dead or on another planet!  
  
Then an old memory had bobbed to the surface.  Onyxia had once paid an unexpected visit to Blackrock Mountain, nearly catching her brother in a compromising situation with a certain red dragon.  Nefarian managed to deflect attention while Rhea sneaked away in goblin form.  That night, after Onyxia left, they had talked about his siblings.  
  
Onyxia herself was well-known, of course.  Nefarian’s brother, Sabellian, was lost on the other side of the Dark Portal.  His youngest sister, Obsidia, did not concern herself with the affairs of mortals, keeping a low profile while hoarding gems in her lair east of the Wetlands.    
  
Those three Rhea had known about before, but that night was the first time she learned of another sister.  Nyxondra had witnessed the disastrous results of Deathwing forcing his molten body on their mother, and had been so horrified that she had cut all ties with the rest of the family.  Nefarian knew she lived in the eastern Badlands, but respected her wishes to have no contact.  
  
Rhea, however, had no such courtesy binding her.  
  
She should have vehemently rejected the idea of harming Romathion’s sister, nieces and nephews.  Instead she felt the first glimmer of hope since learning of his undead state.    
  
Time was of the essence, however.  It was imperative to capture Nyxondra while she was still gravid.  It would likely be the last chance Rhea would ever have to study genetic material so closely linked to the black Aspect.  
  
Presently, Nyxondra disappeared into the depths of her lair, leaving a half-dozen whelps still cavorting in the sunshine.  
  
Rhea put the spyglass back in her knapsack and turned away.  After long hours of planning and observing, timing everything with precision, and preparing for every possible wrinkle in the plan, it was time.  She knew she would have no second chance.   
  
She should have felt a pang of conscience at the thought of kidnapping whelps and using them as bait, but it was the only reliable way she could lure Nyxondra into a trap, so that was what she would do.  
  
Snatching a trio of black whelps as they played outside their lair was a simple matter.  She bound them in a steel cage and did a deliberately shoddy job of hiding them at one end of Lethlor Ravine.  
  
“What are you doing?” one of the whelps demanded. He snapped his tiny, needle-sharp teeth in her direction, but the bars kept her green hands safe as she double-checked the lock on the cage.  
  
“Our mama is going to rip your snout off,” threatened his sister.  
  
Once, Rhea would have done her best to reassure them that she wouldn’t hurt them any more than was absolutely necessary for the greater good of their dragonflight.  She no longer bothered with such niceties, especially when they so often proved to be lies.   
  
Instead she shrugged.  "Oh, your mother will come after me, all right.  In fact, I’m counting on it.“  
  
"Let us go!” snarled the third whelp.  
  
When Rhea walked away without reacting, he puffed up his narrow chest and blew the hottest burst of flame he could muster.  It was far too small to reach her, and the steel bars were unharmed.  
  
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Rhea said wearily.  "But I’m doing this for your sake.  I want to save your flight from the Old Gods.“  
  
The female whelp cringed.  "You can’t make the voices stop.  Nobody can.  Papa says so.”  
  
“That’s right.  We have to ignore them,” her brother said.  
  
Rhea raised an eyebrow.  "And where is your papa now?“  
  
"Far away,” one said sadly.  "The voices try to make him hurt us and Mama, so he goes away to keep us safe.“  
  
"He’s never actually hurt us, though!” the other male said quickly.  
  
“You shouldn’t tell her all that!” the female hissed.  "She’s the enemy!“  
  
"She said she’s trying to help us.”  
  
“She’s a red dragon.  Red dragons hate us.”  
  
“I don’t hate you,” Rhea said firmly.  "I’m sorry it has to be this way, but–“  
  
An angry roar boomed out high above them.  
  
"Mama!” cried the whelps in unison.  
  
Rheastrasza had left an empty crate lying on its side nearby, and at the first sign of Nyxondra’s approach she dived inside.  It didn’t have to hide her long, just ensure that the broodmother didn’t notice her as she landed.  
  
“Mama!  Mama!  We’re down here!  Help us! A red dragon took us!” the whelps chorused as they flapped in circles in the cramped cage.  
  
The ground shook as Nyxondra thumped down between the cage and the box where Rhea lay in wait. “Children!  Are you all right?”  
  
Before they could answer, a blinding flash of pink light crackled across the ravine.  
  
Rhea had shielded her eyes before pressing the button.  As soon as she heard Nyxondra thud to the ground, she sprang out of the box and shifted into her true body again.  
  
Nyxondra was unconscious, slumped in a heap with her nose nearly touching the cage.  The three whelps inside were equally still.  
  
Rhea paced in a wide circle around them, casting spells as she went.  Pink and gold energy snaked out from her paws, weaving together like an ethereal basket until Nyxondra and her children were enclosed in a dome of magic.  
  
Rhea stood back with a satisfied nod.  Good.  Nothing was escaping from that containment field unless she willed it.  
  
The initial stunning spell would last for another few minutes, so she took the opportunity to inspect her new prisoner more closely. Nyxondra had collapsed on her belly, and Rhea turned her over to get a better look at her abdomen.  She palpated carefully, counting the eggs growing inside.  At least three, possibly more.  Excellent.  And there was no telling how much of her mate’s seed she had in reserve for future clutches.  This would be most enlightening indeed.  
  
Nyxondra twitched away from her touch, and Rhea retreated outside the force field, taking the cage of whelps with her.  They were still lying senseless in a heap at the bottom.  
  
A moan escaped Nyxondra’s mouth as she struggled back to consciousness. “What…?”  Even before she had her eyes open, she reached toward where the cage had been.  She flailed blindly, then rolled over to look and found it gone.  "Children?“  She sat up, reeling groggily.  
  
"Your children are safe, for now,” Rhea said calmly.  
  
Nyxondra whirled around toward the sound of her voice, but immediately regretted it as a surge of vertigo made her tip forward and fall clumsily to the red dirt.  "Who are you?“ she demanded.  "What do you want?” Her voice was shrill with barely-controlled panic and fury.  
  
“I am Rheastrasza.  You don’t know me, but your brother, Romathion, and I go way, way, back…”

 

* * *

 

In the days that followed, Rheastrasza kept Nyxondra magically sedated most of the time.  This was partly to reduce the risk of her escaping, and partly to spare her from seeing the fates of her children.  Rhea studied the black whelplings inside and out, dispassionately recording her observations in a logbook.  
  
When studying other broods she had noticed how the corruption seemed contained to certain portions of the whelps’ bodies.  Perhaps one would have a leg that was not tainted at the cellular level, and another a tail or a liver.  None of those free patches were significant enough to help the dragon escape the will of the Old Gods, but the idea had taken root in Rhea’s brain that if it were somehow possible to cut apart a large number of whelps until she had enough untainted pieces to reassemble into a whole body…   
  
It was a gruesome prospect, and well beyond Rhea’s capability, so she had dismissed it some time ago.  Now, however, as she studied the corpses of Nyxondra’s children, she found larger amounts of uncorrupted tissue in each whelp than ever before.  Her hunch about gathering samples as genetically close to the Earth Warder as possible had borne fruit, after all.  It still wasn’t enough to make the plan practical, though.  It might take only two dozen whelps instead of a hundred to make up one purified dragon, but she had no way to put the bits together and bring them to life without resorting to necromancy.  
  
The memory of Nefarian’s undead form made her shiver despite the blazing sun that baked the Badlands. She turned aside from her microscope and rubbed her eyes.  
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
Rhea jumped and whirled around to look at Nyxondra, whose eyes were open and regarding her with visceral hatred.  Apparently the sedation had worn off while Rhea was engrossed with her work.  
  
She straightened her posture to give her goblin body as much height as she could.  "I’m trying to save your flight from its corruption.“  
  
"So you say.”  Nyxondra snorted a wisp of smoke.  "I’ve never had someone try to ‘save’ me by kidnapping me, stealing my eggs, and killing my children.“  
  
Rhea wiped ink off her hands with a scrap of cloth.  "If it were easy, someone would have done it eons ago.  Sacrifices must be made.”  
  
Nyxondra ground her teeth, sinking her claws into the rust-colored gravel on which she lay.  From the expression on her face, it was clear she wished to be impaling her captor instead.  "I don’t remember volunteering,“ she growled.  
  
"Fate is funny that way,” Rhea said flatly.  "Terrible things happen.  Nobody asks for them, but they happen all the same.  I only hope that _these_ terrible things lead to something better.“  
  
"How noble of you.  I’m sure that will make all the difference in the world to my babies as you cut them into a hundred pieces.”  
  
Rhea did flinch slightly at that, but shook her head.  "My own children have died in pursuit of this goal, too.“  The faces of every chromatic whelp who had hatched from her eggs flashed through her mind, and she closed her eyes.  "We’ve come too far to stop now.”  
  
“We?” Nyxondra gave a dry laugh.  "There is no 'we’ in this, red. I am your prisoner.  Torture me, kill me, do what you will, but I will never be your ally.“  
  
"Even if someday your children could be free of the whispers?”  
  
Nyxondra’s striking crimson eyes narrowed.  "If I thought for one instant it was possible to stop the whispers–“  
  
"It is.  Or I believe it is.  I’m so close to a breakthrough…”  
  
“Break something besides my eggs,” the broodmother hissed.  
  
Rhea glanced at the shards of black shell that lay scattered around her workspace.  "Your eggs are only one generation removed from the Earth Warder.  That makes them invaluable.“  
  
"Is _that_ why you came after me?  Because of my father?”  Nyxondra’s voice went up an octave as a wild look came over her.  She struggled to her feet but could only take two steps toward Rhea before the containment field blocked her path with a jolt of magic.  A web of pink and purple energy lay between them, but did nothing to hold back the outrage and horror on the black dragon’s face. “That’s why?  You’re here killing my babies because of _my father_?”  
  
Rhea simply nodded.  
  
Nyxondra must have known her flame wouldn’t penetrate the barrier, but she reared back and let loose with a blast of her hottest breath anyway. “Deathwing is no father of mine!  I disowned him ten millenia ago!  And this is why!  It started with him, this corruption, this suffering, this _death_!  Everything he touches is ruined!  Even now, after all these years, his shadow has returned to cause me pain!”  
  
The anguish in her voice took Rhea aback.  She knew the history between the Earth Warder and his second-youngest surviving daughter, but to see, hear and _feel_ the trauma that still afflicted Nyxondra…  
  
Rhea raised both her hands and cast a swift spell in the black dragon’s direction.  Nyxondra collapsed on the spot, instantly unconscious.  
  
Rhea lowered her shaking arms and leaned back against the table.  The family she and Romathion had tried to forge was not the only one shattered by his dragonflight’s corruption.  
  
“I _will_ fix this,” she said, returning to her logbook.  "Titans help me, I will fix this or die trying.“

 

* * *

 

Days passed, and Nyxondra’s belly grew rounder and rounder.  It was past the time she would normally have laid her eggs, and Rhea suspected she was holding back on purpose.  
  
"There’s no use resisting,” she said dispassionately.  "I can induce you into laying if I have to.“  
  
"Better for my children to die with me than to be fodder for your experiments,” Nyxondra snarled.  She lay curled up in a tight ball with her back to her captor.  
  
Rhea shook her head.  "I’m not going to let you die from being eggbound.  You’re far too valuable to my work.“  She twirled one paw in the air, casting the familiar spell that would render Nyxondra unconscious for several hours.  When she was certain it was safe, she let down the containment field and came closer to inspect her prisoner.  
  
Nyxondra had been delaying the eggs’ exit by sheer willpower alone.  Now that she was unconscious, her body was already starting the process. Rhea cast a spell to ease things along, then sat back and waited. The eggs came more rapidly than they would have under more natural circumstances, collecting one after another on the dirt behind their mother.  
  
Rhea nodded in satisfaction and picked up one of the slimy eggs.  Perfect.  She left the others with Nyxondra for now, knowing her body heat would keep them in good condition until they were needed.  
  
Rhea set the egg on a platter on her work table, shifted into her goblin form, and rolled up her sleeves.  
  
She should have been horrified at herself for what she was about to do. She should have felt guilty for harming an innocent youngster. She should have been revolted at the perversion of the cycle of life.  
  
Instead she merely gave a thin smile and picked up a scalpel.  "Let’s see what we can learn this time…”

 

* * *

 

Dr. Blam paid her a visit the following week.  She had been getting her supplies from the nearby goblin town of Fuselight, but she still relied on her assistant for news and some of the rarer reagents.  
  
The containment field rendered Nyxondra invisible to the gnome, sparing Rhea from answering many awkward questions.  There were plenty of young black dragons in the area that she could have been studying, so Blam didn’t question her choice of such a remote camp site.  
  
She studied a yolk sample under the microscope while Blam briefed her on what was going on in the world beyond the Badlands.  
  
“Ironforge is abuzz with excitement about a new Titan installation that was unearthed by the Cataclysm not far from here.  It appears to be a previously-unknown part of the Uldaman complex.  The Explorer’s League is rushing to investigate before the Reliquary contaminates the site with their inferior excavation methods.”  
  
Rhea made a vague noise, more interested in the corrupted cells on the slide.  
  
“I’ve always been surprised that my own people aren’t more curious about the Titans.  I mean, their technology was so far above our own, and with recent reports from Northrend confirming that we gnomes were their creations, too, I would think we’d be right there, elbow-to-elbow with the dwarves, digging up their secrets.”  
  
Rhea looked up from her microscope with a gasp.  "The Titans!“  
  
"Er…what about them?”  
  
“They didn’t make dragons from scratch, but they took proto-dragons and altered them.”  
  
Blam looked confused.  This was common knowledge, yet Rhea was acting as if this was a new revelation.  
  
She turned to him with wide eyes.  "They were capable of manipulating draconic biology at the molecular level!   _They_ could purify the black flight!“  
  
"But the Titans are long gone from Azeroth.”  
  
“They are, but they left behind so much…  Ulduar, Uldaman, Uldum, and who knows what else!”  She paced around her work table with a sudden burst of energy, gesturing between her equipment and the general direction of Uldaman.  "That’s it!  That’s what I’ve been missing all these years!  The Titans!  Of _course_! How could I have been so blind?  I’ve been so hung up on resenting them for the divisions they imposed on dragonkind that I lost sight of what good they did for us!  And what they still can do, in absentia!  Of course!“ She whirled around to face Dr. Blam.  "You said you wanted to investigate the new ruins?  Go!  Find out everything you can!”  
  
Taken aback by her frenzied enthusiasm, the gnome merely stammered for a moment.  "B-but Uldaman was where the Titans created the Earthen, not dragons.“  
  
"And the black dragonflight were the protectors of earth!  There could still be something relevant!”  
  
“All right, all right!” he said, holding up his hands in front of him.  "I’ll go!“  
  
"Yes! Please!  I would go myself, but I can’t leave–”  She glanced toward Nyxondra’s prison, although the gnome saw only empty dirt there.  "–my work,“ she finished.  
  
"I’ll report back as soon as I find out something,” Blam promised.  
  
“Yes, do!  I’ll be waiting!”  
  
Blam left immediately.  As he hiked away from Rhea’s camp site, he could hear her rambling excitedly to herself about Titans and eggs and corruption.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the month, Rheastrasza’s plans had evolved considerably. She recruited another mortal into her service to assist Dr. Blam, and together they had uncovered promising leads in the ruins of Uldaman. 

Rhea yelped aloud in delight when she received the incredible news from Dr. Blam that a newly-discovered Titan device had activated and done _something_ to the samples of black whelps and eggs she had sent along.  His message was vague, but intriguing enough to make her drop what she was doing and fly westward with all possible speed.  
  
The bad news was that, in her haste, she had neglected to reinforce the magical bonds holding Nyxondra before leaving.  The broodmother broke free in her absence and mustered the support of the other black dragons in the area, who were now searching for Rhea with a thirst for vengeance–and her blood.  
  
The good news–no, the best possible news–was the result of the Titan device’s actions.  
  
Rhea stood in a tent at the Alliance encampment known ominously as Dragon’s End, running her green hands over a darkly iridescent egg that was nearly as tall as she was.  "It’s…perfect,“ she whispered.  
  
Dr. Blam was beaming.  "The Titan doohickey said so.”  
  
“Tell me again,” she breathed, never taking her eyes off the egg.  
  
He had already related the tale twice, but he humored her.  "The floating orb we uncovered in the vaults of Uldaman scanned the dead whelps and the eggs you’d given me and announced that they were all corrupted, which we knew.“  
  
Rhea nodded and continued to stroke the egg.  
  
"Then it let out some kind of laser beam and started to slice up the speciments.  It kept saying 'anomaly excised.’  And then it happened so fast I couldn’t follow exactly what it was doing, but somehow it recombined the parts into that egg.  It said the egg was viable and there were no more anomalies.  Then it just flew away.”  
  
Rhea shook her head in wonder, still touching the egg all over as if to assure herself it was real.  "Just as I suspected. The corruption isn’t distributed evenly throughout their bodies. It just took something as precise as a Titan machine to separate the tainted cells from the pure ones.“  
  
"Can you sense anything about the dragon inside?” Blam asked.  
  
She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the eggshell.  "Oh, yes.  There’s no trace of the Old Gods at all.  He’s perfect.“  Her next breath caught in her throat, and she began to weep softly.  "I did it.  I finally did it, Romy,” she whispered.  
  
Blam backed up a step.  "I’ll just leave you to…whatever, then,“ he said before ducking out of the tent.  
  
Rhea slid to her knees and sat with her arms wrapped carefully around the spiky egg, letting her tears flow freely.  "I did it. Finally, after all this time!  Everything I did…it wasn’t in vain!  Oh, Romathion, if only you knew…  If only you cared…”  
  
When she had collected herself again, she stood up, dried her eyes, and attempted to plan her next move.  Ideally, she would have liked to track down the Titan device again and use it to purify many more black eggs.  Otherwise the restored flight of the Earth Warder would consist of just this one whelp:  hardly a viable population.  
  
As reports flooded in from around the Badlands of black dragons scouring the area for her, she realized she wouldn’t have the luxury of that much time to continue to her work.  
  
“Rhea, ma'am?”   
  
She looked up as Dr. Blam stuck his head back into the tent.  "Yes?“  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, but two new sightings of black dragons have come in.”  
  
She sighed.  "I expected them to come after me.“  
  
"Um, about that…  A scout reported hearing some of the dragons yelling about finding the egg.”  
  
Rhea inhaled sharply.  "The egg?“  
  
"One of the larger drakes was ordering the dragonspawn to search for 'the egg.’  I assume they mean the purified one.”  
  
“Oh no,” she moaned.  "I never thought of that.  The Old Gods know what I’ve been doing.  If they know I’ve succeeded, that their stranglehold on the black dragonflight isn’t absolute, they’ll stop at nothing to destroy this egg.“  
  
"Not to make bad news worse, but there are also reports that, um, the Destroyer himself has been sighted over the Searing Gorge, headed this way.”  
  
Rhea paled.  "Deathwing is coming  _here_?“  
  
"I’m afraid so.”  
  
“Nyxondra disowned him.  She hates him.”  
  
“She’s also one of the few remaining broodmothers from his flight.”  
  
Rhea closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the egg.  "You’re right.  I should have known…  But no, it doesn’t matter now.  What’s done is done.  The only thing that matters now is keeping this egg safe.“  
  
"But if Deathwing himself is–”  
  
Rhea turned to face him with narrowed eyes and a hard look of determination.  " _All_ that matters is keeping this egg safe,“ she repeated vehemently.  
  
"Yes, ma'am.”

 

* * *

 

Just as black dragons could communicate at great distances through the earth, red dragons could magically speak through the living material infused in the soil.  For the first time in years, Rheastrasza sank her claws into the ground and reached out to a member of her own flight. In the quickest and vaguest terms she could get away with, she told the Life Binder of her success, and her predicament.   Alexstrasza agreed to send someone to spirit away the egg to the safety of the Vermilion Redoubt.

She spoke to the whelpling inside the egg as she flew to the rendezvous point.  Dragons were capable of hearing and understanding much before hatching, so she was confident that he was listening, even though he couldn’t respond.

“Hello, little one,” she said gently.  "I’m so sorry to put you through all this.  I’m sure you’re confused and frightened.  Know this much:  I’m trying to give your dragonflight a future.  I don’t know what kind of knowledge the Titan artifact implanted in your mind, but the black flight is nearly extinct, and those who remain are corrupted by the Old Gods.  But you, dear baby,“ she said, patting the egg, "are different.  You are purified.  You are free from the taint of the Old Gods, just as the first black dragons were in ancient times.  You have a great destiny ahead of you.  Azeroth needs you.”  She swallowed, finding her throat tight with emotion.  "My flight will take care of you and protect you.  I promise.“

The dragon the Life Binder had sent to pick up the egg was named Corastrasza. She had never been particularly friendly toward Rhea, but she was a fast flier, which was presumably why Alexstrasza had chosen her for the task.

Rhea landed in front of Corastrasza on a steep mountainside along the northern edge of the Badlands.  The land here was scarred and blackened by the Destroyer’s earlier passage: a vivid reminder of why this plan was so necessary.

Corastrasza peered at the egg in Rhea’s paws  "Is that it?  You really got one?”

“Yes,” Rhea said, unable to keep a hint of pride out of her voice.

“And it’s really uncorrupted?”

“Absolutely.  We uncovered a Titan artifact that took several eggs and whelps and distilled them to their original essence, making one new egg out of them.”  She tried to make it sound clinical and detatched, but the implications still made Cora grimace with a noise of disapproval.

“It’s a nasty business.  Honestly, I’m shocked the Dragonqueen allowed you to proceed with this crazy scheme.  How is your treatment of Nyxondra different from what the orcs did to the Life Binder in Grim Batol?”

 _If she had known exactly what I intended to do, she wouldn’t have allowed it_ , Rhea thought.  "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Corastrasza.  I don’t like it, either.“  It wasn’t a lie. She had hardened her heart and distanced herself emotionally from her work, but she never took joy in what she did.  "Still, it really is for the greater good of Azeroth.  The black dragonflight must survive.”

Corastrasza snorted.  "I obey my queen.  She told me to bring this egg safely to the Vermilion Redoubt, and so I shall.  But the entire affair leaves a bad taste in my mouth.“

 _And you only know the vaguest details_ , Rhea thought.  "I understand.  And thank you.  Be sure to keep it warm.  The blacks incubate at higher temperatures than our flight.”

“I know,” Cora said impatiently.

Rhea looked down at the spiked egg in her paws with a surge of grief.  If only she could raise this whelpling herself, teach him about how his flight used to be, watch him grow and thrive, free of the whispers…  But no.  If he was to be safe from Deathwing’s wrath, she knew what must be done.  

She bowed her head closer to the egg and whispered, “Good-bye, little one.  I’m so sorry your life had to start like this, but I know you will accomplish great things someday.  The world needs you.  Be strong.  Be happy.  Be safe.”

She took a steadying breath and handed the egg over to Corastrasza.  It helped her nerves somewhat to see how carefully the other held it against her chest.

“When can we expect you back at the Redoubt?” Cora asked.

She opened and closed her mouth without speaking, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Rhea?”

“I doubt that we will see each other again,” she said quietly.  "I will do whatever it takes to keep Deathwing from getting his claws on that egg.  If my plan works you will have nothing to worry about.“

"What are you…?”

“Trust me.”

“Rhea–” Cora started in a scolding tone.

Rhea looked up again with renewed fire in her gaze.  "That egg is more important than you or me, or any of my own children.  If the Aspect of Death believes he has destroyed the egg, he will no longer search for it.“

"You’re not saying–”

“I do what I must for the greater good.”

Corastrasza considered this for a moment, and when she spoke again her voice was subdued.  "As do we all.  Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.“

"Thank you.  Now go, before the black flight spots you.”

Cora nodded and launched herself into the air.

Rhea watched her get smaller and smaller in the sky.  When she was certain Cora and the egg had escaped without being detected by any black dragons, Rhea turned around and headed back toward her encampment in Lethlor Ravine.

Her visits to her mate at the Vermilion Redoubt had grown more infrequent with each year that passed after Nefarian’s death.  Some might have expected the opposite, as he was the only partner that remained to her. Instead she found herself fixating on all the ways her red mate was not like Romathion.  Besides, she was only a secondary consort to him.   He was always pleased to see her, but his happiness did not revolve around her.  He didn’t _need_ her the way Romathion did.

It also wasn’t practical to be raising a brood while she was involved with such difficult, secretive work.  How could she tend to her own whelplings and then turn around and dissect Nyxondra’s?

Despite that, she had allowed herself to lay one small clutch the previous week.  She hadn’t admitted to herself that her real motivation was to compare her own, healthy eggs to her prisoner’s, or possibly even transfer some of the yolk from one to the other to see what happened. She had never experimented on her own, trueborn red whelps before, but, as she told Cora, desperate times…

Rhea swooped down and landed near the crevice in the red rocks where she had made her nest.  She glanced around cautiously to make sure no black dragons were nearby before rolling aside a boulder and carefully scooping up the three eggs that had been hidden beneath.

They were all alive, despite her recent neglect.  She concentrated, probing each egg in turn with the powers of her dragonflight.  One was female and thus unsuitable for her purposes.  None of the black dragons she had known could sense the gender of their unhatched children, but there was no point taking chances.

Of the two males, she selected the one who was the closest match in size to the purified egg that Corastrasza had taken.  "I’m sorry,“ she muttered to the whelpling inside.

There was no time for second thoughts.  She gathered all three eggs into her arms and took off again, flying westward as fast as her wings could carry her.

 

* * *

 

Exhausted in every way possible, Rhea nevertheless went straight to Dr. Blam when she returned to the camp at Dragon’s End.

"Ma'am, the black dragonflight’s forces have captured the Horde settlement across the way.  We’ve fought them back from here, but it’s only a matter of time before–”

“I know,” she interrupted.  "I have a plan.“

"The valley just beyond New Kargath is swarming with black whelps, and there’s a berserk broodmother guarding them.”

Nyxondra.   A flash of guilt made Rhea look down, then pull herself together again.  "We’ll need to put her out of her misery before… Before the rest of my plan.  Gather the others.“

Blam saluted and scurried off to round up the other mortals who had been helping them.

Rhea threw a tarp over her three eggs for the moment.  She would explain the rest to Blam while the others tied up the loose end of Nyxondra and her brood.

 

* * *

 

The gnome was actually speechless at first.  "You…what?” he managed to sputter.

“It is imperative that Deathwing believes he has destroyed the egg. The only way to do that is to defend this decoy with my life.”

“But…he’ll kill you.”

She nodded curtly.  "I know.  My life is a small price to pay if the black dragonflight can be restored to its original state.“

"But that one egg is hardly–”

“I know, but it’s all we have, and there may never be a second chance.” Seeing the distress on Blam’s face, her expression softened. “This is my life’s work.  If I must exchange one for the other, so be it.  I have had over ten thousand years on this planet.  I have done many things…  Things I’m not proud of. Things that other members of my dragonflight would disown me for, if they knew about them.  It has all led to this.  I _have_ to make sure that purified egg is safe.”

Blam nodded in reluctant acceptance.  "I understand.  I…  I’ll miss you.“

Rhea smiled.  "Not as much as you might think.  I have a very important task for you.”  She lifted a corner of the tarp behind her, revealing the three eggs.  "I only need one egg to act as a decoy.  If you are willing, I would like you and your assistant each to take one of the others.  Hatch them.  Raise them.  Protect them.  Or, if you choose not to take on the responsibility, see to it that they make it safely to either the Vermilion Redoubt or Wyrmrest Temple, so that others from my flight can care for them.“

Blam stammered for a moment, then collected himself enough to say, "I would be honored, ma'am.”

She hugged him briefly but fiercely.  "Thank you.  For everything.“

"You’re welcome.  I wish I could have done more.”

“See that my babies are safe.  That will be more than enough.”

 

* * *

 

The laboratories deep in Blackrock Mountain were no stranger to odd noises. The crackle of static and snapping electricity that filled the air today were even more bizarre than usual, however.  A dragonspawn servant scurried down a set of crumbling stone steps, and had he possessed hair it would have stood on end from the charge in the air.  He reached the bottom of the stairs and approached an armored human figure who stood before the prone form of a huge purple-and-black dragon.  

“Master, a report from the Badlands.”

Nefarian turned away from affixing electrodes to Onyxia’s twitching paw and fixed his unblinking gaze on the messenger.  "Speak.“

"The forces we sent were decimated.  Kalaran was slain.  We lost control of New Kargath.  The broodmother was killed, as well.”

Nefarian’s stony expression did not change.  He should have been enraged at the defeat.  He should have been distressed at losing Kalaran, who had been a loyal lieutentant for many years.  He should have felt grief over the news of his sister’s demise.

Instead his cracked lips twisted into a sneer.  "I expected as much.  Nothing ever seems to go the way it’s supposed to.“  He went back to threading wires around the exposed sinew in his sister’s forelimb.

"There’s more, Lord Nefarian.”

“Go on,” he said without turning around.

“Your father should be arriving in the Badlands shortly.”

“None of our enemies will be left alive, then.  He’ll see to that,” he said with a matter-of-fact nod.

“The Destroyer is too late to save the others, but he will surely kill the red dragon responsible for your sister’s kidnapping.”

“Just one?  I was under the impression that the red flight’s attempts to eliminate our kind was a large scale operation.”

“They _are_ working in large numbers in the Twilight Highlands, my lord.  The situation in the Badlands appears to be a more isolated incident. Only one red dragon has been sighted.  Reports indicate she was actually trying to _purify_ black eggs.”

Nefarian froze for several seconds, then turned slowly to look at his minion.  "Purify eggs?“

"Yes, Master.  That’s why she targeted a broodmother.”

Could it be…?  Nefarian was overcome with a strange sinking sensation, the closest thing to actual emotion that he had felt since his resurrection.  Could this be Rheastrasza’s doing?  

Yes, he realized.  It could.  His memories of her were like specimens under glass–a step removed from his current reality, flat and out of context.  But as he reviewed the work they had done together he decided this kind of scheme could very well have sprung from Rhea’s head.

He should have been outraged that she would harm his sister, or touched that she still hadn’t given up after everything that had happened.  He should have been devastated at the possibility of her death.  He should have been sickened by the thought that his own father might unknowingly kill his soul mate.

Instead he felt…tired.  His body no longer needed rest, but the urge to simply close his eyes and shut out the world for awhile swept over him. There was no point trying to make sense of matters that spiraled out of control no matter what he did.

“Dismissed,” he said curtly.

The dragonspawn bowed and departed the way he had come.

Nefarian stood and stared at nothing for a minute before returning his attention to his attempts to reanimate Onyxia’s corpse.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Rhea’s mortal assistants delivered the news that Nyxondra had been slain and the Horde settlement had been freed from the black dragonflight’s forces.  All that remained was to wait for Deathwing’s forces to find her and the egg.

It did not take long.  Perhaps drawn by the death cry of his estranged daughter, the Destroyer himself darkened the sky of the north-western Badlands.

Rhea had tucked away the decoy egg in the back of a small cave not far from where Nyxondra had fallen. The stone beneath her goblin form’s feet rumbled with the intensity of an outraged roar from somewhere outside the cave. Deathwing was getting closer.

Rhea stood, stroking the egg with one hand, keeping her back to the entrance.

She should be having had second thoughts.  She should be feeling the itch of self-preservation urging her to flee.  She should have felt guilty for dooming her unhatched son this way.

Instead she felt only weary resignation and relief.  It was over.  She had succeeded in creating a purified black dragon egg, and that egg was miles away by now, safe and free.

She thought of her parents and all the others she would see in the shade of Gha'nir.  To rest in eternal bliss around the Mother Tree, free from worry and guilt and pain and grief…

Her only regret was that Romathion wouldn’t be there to greet her.  Hopefully someday soon he would be granted the release of death and leave his withered body behind once more. Surely in the afterlife the color of their scales would cease to matter.  Their love would outlast the trials of this world and thrive in the next.

The flap of enormous wings reached her from outside the cave, then a tremendous thump as one of the largest dragons ever known landed.

 _Play the part_ , she told herself.   _He must believe this egg is the purified one_.

She took the fear that Deathwing might see through the deception and used it to fuel her terrified expression as she turned to see his hideous, lava-scarred visage peering into the cave.

Suddenly it was not the least bit difficult to put on a show of fear.  "No!“ she burst out.  "It’s…it’s you!  No!”  She shrank back, cowering under his scrutiny, but made sure to keep her body between him and the egg.

“You impetuous little whelp,” Deathwing said with a sneer.

Only the vaguest traces of Neltharion were visible on the maddened creature before her, yet for just a moment she was transported back to a simpler time when he was simply her best friend’s father.  Then he had often regarded her with annoyance because she distracted his son from his official duties.  Now the mark of the Old Gods was firmly upon him, and his eyes blazed with murderous rage.

“I know exactly what you are up to,” Deathwing snapped.

A fleeting sense of panic washed over her along with the absurd thought that he was referring to her relationship with Romathion.   _No, no, the egg, it’s about the egg_ , she reminded herself.   _He doesn’t know.  He can’t know._

“Are you ready to die?” Deathwing snarled, as if she had a choice.  The glow of barely-contained fire within his chest grew brighter.

“Yes,” Rhea said, surprised by the calmness of her voice.  "Just…  Just show mercy to the egg.“

"Mercy?”  Deathwing gave a scornful laugh at the concept.  "There is no mercy!  You will burn for this!“  He reared back with a deep breath, and Rhea closed her eyes.

 _Forgive me_ , she thought to the unhatched son behind her, to the other two eggs from her last cluch, to their father back at the Vermilion Redoubt, to Dr. Blam and her other mortal assistants, to Nyxondra, to all the whelps whose lives had been fodder for her experiments, to Romatria if she was still alive out there somewhere, to any chromatic whelps who had survived, to Alexstrasza, to Romathion, to herself–

Heat.

Not pain.  There wasn’t time for pain.  Just one moment of more heat than she had ever imagined could exist in one place.

Then, nothing.

 

* * *

 

Thousands of miles to the north, a dragon awoke with a cry of alarm.

Beside her, a second dragon jumped in surprise.  "What’s the matter?” he asked groggily.

The first dragon scrambled into a sitting position.  Her breath came in quick gasps and she looked around the cavern in a panic.  "Something terrible just happened.“

"A nightmare,” her companion mumbled, not unsympathetically.

“No, not a dream.”  She shook her head as if that would clear her jumbled thoughts.  "I felt a jolt, like something was severed, or silenced, or…  I don’t know.“

The male sat up and took her in his arms with a sigh.  "It’s all right.  Whatever it was, we’re safe here.”

She shivered and clung to him.  Rather than being comforted by his embrace, however, she began to weep.

Her companion frowned in concern.  She was not prone to tears.  In fact, he could only recall witnessing her crying once before.  "There, there,“ he murmured.  "It’s all right.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she stammered, sounding even more frightened than before.  "I just… Something happened.  I don’t know what, or where, or why, but…“  She dissolved into sobs, and he held her even tighter.

"It’s all right,” he repeated because he didn’t know what else to say.

She regained control after a few minutes and pulled away from him to wipe the tears from her cheeks.  "I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  Maybe it _was_ a dream.  I don’t remember.  I just know I felt so terribly sad all of a sudden.“

"No need to apologize,” he said fondly.  "Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?“

"I…  I think so.”

“All right.  I’m here if you need me.”

She managed a smile, and the moonlight filtering in through the cave’s entrance hit the moisture on her cheeks, making her pure white scales gleam like pearls.  "Good night,“ she said.

Her companion smiled back.  "Good night, Romatria.”

 

* * *

 

_And now let us close as we began, with a quote from the Bard:_

> A glooming peace this morning with it brings;  
> The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:  
> Go hence, to ~~have more talk of these sad things;~~   **pretty please leave me feedback**  
>  Some shall be pardon’d, and some ~~punished~~ **farmed for loot** :  
> For never was a story of more woe  
> Than this of ~~Juliet~~ **Rhea** and her ~~Romeo~~ **Romy.  Oh!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The dialogue between Rhea and Corastrasza was copied from my very first fic about Wrathion, “The Beginning.” Also, I edited Deathwing’s lines slightly to remove an awkward reference to the player (“I know what you [and the mortal] are up to”) and because it’s always bugged me that he calls Rhea “dragon” twice. Um, yeah, that’s her species. That’s your species, too, genius. It would be like me sassing someone by saying, “You’ll pay for this, human!” It’s just dumb. Sorry, Blizzard writers.
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the sad ending. It’s canon, and I did name the fic with a reference to a Shakespearean tragedy, so it’s not like it was a surprise. I may have a sequel someday, since death isn't always permanent in the Warcraftverse...


End file.
